


So I'm Your Tech Support?

by weaving_a_tale



Series: The Further Adventures of Samuel Drake [1]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Archaeological Shenanigans, F/M, Gen, Long Distance Relationship, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaving_a_tale/pseuds/weaving_a_tale
Summary: A grand tale of being invalided home after a particularly nasty bullet to the shoulder thanks to one Samuel Drake, and the somewhat unconventional way you become involved in his latest treasure hunt. (Sam Drake x Reader, significant age difference)





	1. Just A Flesh Wound, Honest

If the circumstances had been any different, you could almost say Samuel Drake was charming.

Except the present situation had him currently in possession of a rather specific artifact. One that you knew was necessary for one Abigail Victor to complete her doctoral dissertation in archaeology.

One that the damn bastard didn't seem to want to let go of despite her protests, something to do with a long lost treasure.

Likely story to cover his own ass. The worst part was that he genuinely believed it, eyes bright and grin eager as he spoke of it. The worst part was that he almost made you believe it was true, and that bothered you more than you wanted to let on.

You'd been working for Abbie for a few months now, a six-month contract as her assistant. What you thought would just be a simple job of organizing papers or possibly taking notes for her during her experiments in the bone lab of the university had become you accompanying her to an island off the coast of Sweden, still taking notes but also accompanying her to the dig sites.

Which would have been typical if one treasure hunter had not taken it upon himself to scavenge through each one, overturning equipment and ruining months of data in the process in search of a golden necklace from the 16th century, apparently left behind by some explorer who's name you'd never even heard of up to this point.

What could you say? Your speciality was the World Wars, and you'd barely ventured out of that time frame unless it was necessary for some reason. Hell, you'd written a dissertation on the First World War, it wasn't like you'd exactly hidden from Abbie where your specialties lay.

She would have done better to hire someone with knowledge of the time period of her research. But then again, you worked harder than everyone else, made no complaints about the weather or the workload.

Maybe those were the only reasons she kept you on.

You were barely paying attention to the conversation as you watched the older man run a hand through a receding hairline in apparent frustration, a gesture that Abbie appeared to be mirroring.

You were beginning to think that Sam was.....well sort of handsome in that weathered sort of way when something whizzed sharply into the crate under your feet.

You sprung up, already glancing around when a searing pain went through your shoulder causing you to give out a sharp cry as you clutched it.

You withdrew your hand to see it coated in thick blood, your eyes widening before Sam shouted something you couldn't hear. You opened your mouth to ask when another bullet whizzed over your head and you scrambled to get behind the crate.

"What....no...you....INSANE?" You barely heard Sam shout over the deafening sounds of gunfire, glancing over to see him hiding behind a nearby crate.

"Sorry....archaeologists don't....guns....DIG SITES!" Abbie all but screamed at him in frustration, and you risked peeking out your head to see who was shooting at you when a strange ticking filled your ears.

You spotted the bomb resting on the other side of the crate and did your best to scramble away when you were shot back a few metres, your body slamming into the ground.

"Y/N!" You dimly heard Abbie yell as your ears kept ringing, gritting your teeth as you forced yourself to raise your hand and apply pressure to your shoulder.

"I...I'll be fine," you retorted hoarsely, the words lodging in your throat before you coughed violently. "Shit...."

"Y/N, just stay there!" She called out and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh no, I definitely felt like moving," you muttered as you listened to the gunshots, turning your head to see Sam shooting back at them as a hired goon lay nearby.

Abbie seemed to have acquired a gun as well, doing her best to shoot back as you struggled to remain conscious.

"We'll be there soon Y/N, just hold on," Abbie called out.

"To what?" You risked joking, earning you a warm chuckle from Sam.

Your vision was starting to fade and your heart rate spiked in panic, flipping yourself onto your stomach in order to try and crawl towards the pair. Seemed safer than remaining in the open.

You somehow managed, your teeth gritted as you flopped down beside them causing Sam to glance down at you.

You swore for a moment he looked impressed before he went back to firing at whoever had attacked us.

Abbie tore off part of her shirt before she stuffed it into the wound, your breaths turning to gasps as the pain threatened to consume you entirely.

You could only stave it off for so long before you gave in, your eyes slipping closed as the sounds of gunfire faded away.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

You dimly remembered the next week in a codeine haze, someone coming in every so often and cleaning your wound before they re-applied the bandages as you lay in some bed.

You guessed they'd brought in someone to extract the bullet, though you wished you knew more about the person who shot you in the first place.

Just what the hell was so important about a golden necklace anyways? Sure, the pendant had been gorgeously inlaid with swirling patterns and marks, but other than that it seemed almost...ordinary.

You winced as you slipped out of bed, moving your shoulder a little as you glanced around the room.

You appeared to be in a motel of some sort, Abbie's clothes strewn on the other bed as the TV played lowly.

The door to the adjoining room was ajar, two voices speaking quietly as you approached.

"...she's just a kid, and we can't risk it," you heard Sam murmur, and your stomach twisted sharply. "We should send her home."

"I'm not a kid," you muttered as you crossed your arms, leaning against the nearby wall and continuing to listen.

"Maybe you're right," Abbie murmured and you could picture her rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I...If you're serious about all this, then I might know someone...though no promises Clarke will agree to anything."

"Clarke?" Sam asked with sudden interest.

"Professor Clarke Baker. My supervisor. Used to do expeditions until he unofficially retired from it. Apparently got sick of scaling rocks for dig sites."

An unfamiliar voice chuckled at that.

"I know the feeling. And Y/N?" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"Leave that to me, I can handle it," Abbie retorted. "She's my assistant after all."

You heard someone's chair scrape against the wooden floor before their footfalls echoed around the room, the telltale click of the front door opening before it slipped shut.

"Your contact, this Clarke, he have any experience in the Canadian Rockies?" The unfamiliar voice asked as you stepped back, Abbie's words about 'handling it' like you were some child running through your mind.

Did they all think you were so incapable of making your own decisions? That if they told you not to do something you'd do the utter opposite? Forget the other two, had you not proven yourself to Abbie?

You knew their concerns were reasonable based on what you could assume, that they were likely to come into contact with those...men, again. Abbie didn't want you to get hurt, and Sam...well it was apparent he thought you were useless.

You couldn't figure out why that bothered you so much.

You rolled your shoulders as you stepped back, gently rubbing your injured shoulder as you scanned the room for a shirt.

You gritted your teeth as you slipped one on, the pain shooting through you as you shifted the bandages.

You sat on the foot of the bed, trying to catch your breath from the sheer intensity of the pain when the door opened.

A cigarette was poised between a pair of thin lips, the smoke forming a halo of sorts around Sam's tall frame.

"Guess Sullivan owes me twenty bucks," Sam murmured as he regarded you with a smirk.

"For what?" You asked as your eyebrows rose.

Sam withdrew the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he responded.

"He put it at two weeks. I bet one," Sam replied. "Thought you were tougher than you looked."

"You did?" You asked skeptically, causing Sam to grin as Abbie stepped through the other door.

"Oh. You're awake," Abbie declared as Sam opened his mouth, appearing to ignore him as she pulled you into a quick hug. "How are you feeling?"

The pain shot through you as she touched the bandages and you withdrew quickly, gritting your teeth.

"Shit," you hissed, Abbie's relieved smile transforming into a worried frown as you clutched your shoulder. "I...I'll be fine."

"You're allowed to be in pain, Y/N," Abbie murmured and you must have rolled your eyes a little because Sam appeared to grin.

You withheld a sharp retort as you sat at the foot of the bed once more.

"I mean, you were shot for crap's sake. If you need more time to recover no one is going to...." Abbie continued.

"You don't need to convince me," you replied. "I'm perfectly happy to go home. Better than being shot at, right?"

Abbie grinned in relief.

"We can book you a flight for tomorrow morning," Abbie declared as she stood up. "In the meantime, get yourself some rest."

"No, really?" You couldn't help but murmur sarcastically, causing Sam to smile a little.

Sam took another drag of his cigarette as he stood there, blowing out the smoke as you looked up at him.

"Why were we being shot at, anyways?"

You almost wished you hadn't asked as he launched into some epic tale of European explorers and shipping routes of the early 17th century, of the treasures they carried for one patron by the name of Victoria Cassandra de Victorie, Duchess of some municipality you had never heard of. How her hoarde was thought to contain treasures well into the Celtic and Viking period, an archaeological gold mine in every sense of the phrase.

The others wanted it for the same reasons Sam did, treasure and glory. Anyone who found it was likely to be set for life.

"So I got shot for a treasure that might not even exist?"

"C'mon kid, have a little faith," Sam retorted with a wide grin as he sat down in a chair beside the bed. "Your friend seems convinced it exists..."

You thought of the long hours Abbie had spent pouring over documents and journals, filling out forms and requesting permits just to get to Sweden in the first place.

"She needs it to, considering how much money she's put into all this," you retorted. "Well, until your friends blew it to pieces trying to get a damn necklace...."

"Not one for jewellery then?" Sam teased a little, and you found yourself smiling.

"I just....I'm trying to be realistic," you replied with a shrug.

Your heartbeat quickened as Sam leaned in a little closer, the scent of nicotine and dirt filling your lungs for a moment.

"But what's the fun in that, huh?" Sam asked, the smoke from the cigarette billowing up as he looked at you with a grin that could almost seemed playful.

"Sam?" Abbie asked, causing the man to lean back a little as he turned his head to look at her. His response was a quick nod, though the smile that was once on his features transformed into concern at her panicked expression. "We've got a problem. They're shutting down the island. No boats getting in or out for the next few days."

An unfamiliar man stepped into the room, wearing a blue cotton shirt, his hair and moustache more salt than pepper at this point.

"Good thing we have a plane then...." Sam declared as he looked at the man. "Right Sullivan?"

"As long as we make a quick stop for fuel we should be able to make the trip over," the man declared. "We can drop off Y/N as well, I have some contacts that can get her home."

As you watched the trio pack, you wondered why you had a knot in your stomach. It wasn't like you could go with them, you were wounded and you needed to rest. Besides, you had already proven you were useless with a gun, no use to them in their likely dangerous antics.

You were better off at home, safe in your bed. Going back to the same old life as before. You liked normalcy and routine, and all this would likely be chaotic and anything but normal.

So why did you begin to wonder if you should come with them?

The decision was made for you, your clothes packed and yourself shipped off back to Canada on Sully’s friend’s rickety plane that left your heart in your throat almost the entire ride back home. Alternating between wondering if you would die or if Abbie would in whatever goose chase this Sam was leading her on. And that seemed like the end of it, to be honest.

You settled back into your life near Toronto, spending your days writing or playing video games or doing anything to stave off the growing boredom as you healed.

Until one day a message popped up in Skype from one Samuel Drake.


	2. Unexpected Partnerships

It had started with questions pertaining to the little treasure hunt they were on. Shipping routes and geographic locations that you could access information on, your laptop with Wifi much faster than a cell phone with shitty reception.

You were starting to feel like you were in school again, looking up articles and spending long amounts of time in the library researching about seventeenth century explorers and shipping routes.

You had to admit though, Victoria Cassandra de Victoire was a fascinating woman. Educated the same as a man at the insistence of her uncle, his duchy given to her rather than her alcoholic cousin, she was an ambitious woman who appeared to want more out of her life than she ever received.

She had awful luck when it came to her marriages though. Two taken by illness, another one dying on an expedition to the West Indies. You couldn't imagine how painful that must have been.

Or maybe she found it fortuitous, to be given independence and stability in a period where that was uncommon for a woman. To be able to manage her own shipping company, helmed by one explorer by the name of Olaf Wallenberg.

He was the one who's necklace you had found in Sweden, a Swede who according to your research came from the lowest of beginnings as a fish monger.

The story went his fishing boat had accidentally dredged up Viking gold, which he promptly returned to and gathered to present to whichever person could give him the best amount for it. Victoria had happened to hear of it and promptly sailed out to his boat as it was still dredging up the riches, the pair returning to dock with the gold and a business partnership already in place.

The more speculative of historians believed they might have been lovers, and based on the portrait of Olaf, you could see why. Tall and handsome with eyes of piercing blue, you were admiring the picture when your cell phone buzzed in your pocket.

[Accept call] [Reject call]

You gathered up your books, stuffing them into your bag before you slung it over your shoulder, scrambling out of the library.

You set yourself down on a bench near the entrance, taking a deep breath before you dialled back.

He picked up on the third ring, and for some reason you pictured him leaning against a railing, a cigarette poised in one hand as he held the cell phone in the other.

"How's my tech support?" He declared warmly, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Unless I'm fixing that crappy phone of yours then I don't think calling me 'tech support' is entirely accurate," you retorted with a laugh.

"Hey hey hey, I will have you know this phone is the finest twenty bucks can buy," he replied, causing you to grin. "So what have you found about our friend Victoria?"

"Nothing to explain why she is named Victory twice," you replied with a smirk. "But plenty on her supposed romance with Olaf."

"Ah, so you've come to that conclusion too?" Sam asked.

"Why, what have you found?"

Sam chuckled for some reason before he responded.

"It was Abbie, actually. She was able to decipher a coded letter Victoire left behind a brick in some chapel off the coast of Vancouver Island. Told him if he got to her first the rewards would be 'more plentiful than the others could ever imagine'."

The phrase rolled off his tongue deliciously and you felt the heat in your cheeks rise just at the sound of it.

"And have you run into any of your other friends lately?" You asked, more to change the conversation than anything as you continued to blush.

"Actually, no," he admitted. "Which either means we're well ahead of them, or we're completely off track. So a win-win really."

You smirked at that as you leaned back a little, the cool metal comforting against your back.

"Well I would think the less people firing at you the better," you retorted.

"How's the shoulder?" He asked, and you rolled it a few times, wincing at the dull ache.

"Still healing," you replied. "How's any of the injuries you likely have by now?"

Sam chuckled at that.

"Aches, cuts and scrapes come with the job description," he replied. "Nothing I can't handle."

He laughed again for some reason.

"Though if I'm injured I'll be sure to get Abbie to patch me up."

There was a warmness to his words that made your stomach pitch, and you shook your head at yourself. You needed to stop being jealous of everyone that got into a relationship while you didn't.

Hell, there probably wasn't even a relationship to begin with. Just Sam making a comment. That's all.

"Hope you help patch her up as well," you replied.

"Oh no, she won't let me touch her with a ten-foot pole," Sam retorted, somehow the grin evident in his words.

You glanced at the books peeking out of the top of your backpack, only half closed in your scramble to get outside.

"If you want me to scan some of the information I got on Olaf and Victoria it might take a few hours," you declared. "Sorry I can't go much faster...."

"Take your time kid, we're not going anywhere," Sam retorted, and you bristled at the him calling you 'kid' again. "Besides, after the trek we took today, I think a nap is in order...."

You heard him yawn a little and smiled.

"Take your nap, hopefully I can get everything to you soon," you declared. "Is....there anything else you needed from me?"

"Can't think of anything, but I'll be sure to let you know," Sam replied distractedly, and for some reason you got the image of warm brown eyes scanning over a lean figure, her red hair shining in the settling sun as she looked at her cell phone. Likely taking a long drag of his cigarette as he watched appreciatively.

Not that you would blame him in the slightest. Abbie was beautiful and intelligent, a deadly combination. Frankly you were surprised he hadn't asked you yet if she was single.

"Sounds like a plan. Talk to you later Sam," you declared. "Try not to get shot at while I'm away."

"Denying a man his pleasures? For shame," he replied, causing you to grin. "But I'll do my best."

You hung up, lingering on his words before you shook your head.

If you didn't know better you'd think you were becoming attracted to him or something.

Not that that would necessarily be the worst thing in the world. He....could be charming, at times. And he seemed to have a sense of humour. Not to mention he appeared to have the same passion for history as you, albeit for a different time period.

If he was twenty years younger he would be perfect.....

You could picture it actually, him without the crow's feet and weathered features, a charming grin on his features as he approached you. Cigarette in one hand and a history book tucked under his arm, a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. The quintessential grad student, complete with eager stories about his research as you would smile and nod.

Pulling him close before you would pluck the cigarette out of his hand, crushing it under your shoe before your lips would meet his, hand carding through thick chestnut hair as his hands would drop to your hips and....

Whoa. Well someone clearly needed to meet someone soon. That....image was a tad too vivid for your liking.

You swore you could taste the nicotine on your tongue as you went back inside to search for a photocopying machine.

  
It was precisely a fortnight (no, you hadn't been counting) when the conversation shifted away from topics of Swedish merchants and English aristocratic patrons.

Sam and Abbie were apparently making rapid progress, already planning for the next country and you couldn't help but feel a little accomplished that in some way your research had helped them to get there.

Sam had actually gotten a decent enough signal to video chat, splayed out on some chair as you exchanged information, the pair of you excitedly speaking about the treasure (despite your reservations about if it genuinely existed or not) and what it might contain based on the amount of patrons she had.

He had gone off to get something when you noticed a bra on his bed, lacy and black, and you leaned a little closer to the screen to get a better look when he returned.

You jerked back, straightening your top for some reason before you swallowed, seeing your face in the corner of the screen was starting to go red.

"So when do you leave for Norway?" You asked with a small smile, trying to focus on his features and failing as you kept glancing back at the bra. Wondering how Abbie would react to finding out her partner was using their time in the city to, ahem, entertain rather than work on solving the great mystery of Victoire.

"Few days. Abbie wants to double-check we're going in the right direction. I would swear she doesn't trust me or something," Sam replied, giving you a small wink as the door opened.

"You seen my bra anywhere in here?' Abbie asked as she walked in.

"What, got yourself a hot date I don't know about?" Sam teased as he turned back, appearing to ignore you entirely.

"Har har, yes with our competition," she declared with a grin, approaching the bed before she picked up the bra. "Surprised you didn't shred this along with my...."

She appeared to notice you sitting there, your mouth slightly open as your eyes went wide, and she coughed awkwardly.

"Ahhh. Y/N. Hi. Sorry, didn't, uh....didn't realize you were talking to Sam. I, uh....I'll talk to you later, okay? I, ummm, I want your opinion on a document we found...."

She all but scurried out of the room, the realization causing your stomach to finally plummet.

"We have an idea that after Norway...." Sam began.

"Thought you said she wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole," you interrupted, trying to keep your voice as light as possible.

Sam chuckled a little.

"Guess I was wrong," he retorted, and you chuckled weakly.

"Should I say congrats?" You asked half-heartedly, and Sam shrugged.

"We'll see," he retorted oh-so casually, and for some reason you hated him for it. That this....whatever this was...was so, so....blasé for him. That he could go and screw your former boss and not really think about the weight of it. That this was just another conquest of sorts, for her rather than some ancient treasure.

"So do you need anything else from me?" You asked, and Sam looked a little startled before he shook his head. "Alright. I'll be sure to send you the other copies of the documents I found in an hour. Figure you can keep yourself occupied until then."

He frowned as you hung up, rather childishly you had to admit.

You had no right to be this overprotective over a woman you had only known for a month or so. Besides, she was older than you, she was capable of her own decisions and screwing whoever she damn well pleased. It wasn't your issue to solve. Hell, it wasn't an issue in the slightest. If Sam seemed to satisfy her, then so be it. No sweat off your back. Nope.

Though to be honest, you found that a little hard to believe. A man that age, able to please a woman her age? Please, he probably couldn't even get it up. You snickered at the image, rather cruelly you had to admit. But c'mon, it was hilarious in its own sort of way.

You elected not to mention any of this to her when you spoke, focusing strictly on the treasure and your research, though it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue the entire time. Not-so-secretly curious how all this had come about. Proximity, maybe? You couldn't see any other reason for why they would even be together.

When she hung up, you puffed out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes before you checked your Facebook, noting with mild interest that apparently one of your friends had gotten engaged to someone she had known for only a month. Please.

As if you could ever fall in love in that time frame. By that logic you should have fallen for Sam by now.

Wait, why were you thinking of Sam? You weren't even remotely interested in him. Sure, he was adorably roguish in a certain way and clearly intelligent, but it was apparent he didn't really care who stumbled into his bed so long as someone did. At least, that appeared to be the impression you got from his personality alone.

First impressions were usually right from your experience, and it wasn't like Sam had done anything so far to change your mind. In fact he had only proven most of what you thought. Clearly impulsive, utterly selfish and more than willing to put others in danger.

Thank God you weren't there with him and Abbie.

He'd probably get you killed or something.

....So why did you want to get a ticket to Norway? Meet them there, rejoin their little expedition. From what Sam had told you the other people searching for the treasure were practically non-existent, it was not like you were in any real danger.

And yet you hesitated, already closing down the browser as you shook your head at yourself.

Don't be ridiculous, they didn't want you there. Especially now if the pair of them were knocking boots. It was better if you stayed here, helped them gather information from a safe distance.

Yeah. Yeah it was better like this.

Honestly.


	3. Puzzles and Priorities

"You alright kid?"

You tapped your pen against the desk, barely reading the document in front of you, more concerned with trying to ignore how Abbie appeared to be wearing Sam's shirt as she sprawled out on his bed.

You curtly nodded as you tried to decipher exactly what Victoire had meant by, "I wither at the prospect of the throng and am quite envious of your crew. How it must feel to have the sea air in your lungs, with a prospect of reward for your hard, honest work rather than merely lying on ottomans and lounges praying for a shift."

Abbie had thought it meant what it said, merely a noble woman complaining of her position and envious to the nth degree. Sam, however, was convinced she had hidden some clue within the phrases.

As much as you hated to admit it, you had to agree with Sam. The phrasing was just a tad too odd compared to her other letters to Olaf, most of them filled with praises of him and desires for his companionship.

"You understand me in a manner no one else has, and I treasure the moments we may be in each other's company," one letter had stated, and part of you wondered if you would ever find someone like that.

Abbie went to retrieve something from her room, Sam watching her appreciatively and you bristled.

"Can you focus on the letter please?" You muttered as you went back to trying to decipher it.

"How far did her trading empire go again?" Sam asked, running his thumb over his lighter.

"It was all over, she was the patron to a lot of sailors and adventurers," you retorted quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear as you continued to scan the letter. "Seems like as soon as one died, she replaced them. Kinda awful if you think about it."

"She was a woman in the seventeenth century, if she didn't keep complete control she was going to lose it. Couldn't waste time," Sam replied, and you sighed a little.

"Must have been stressful, keeping track of all this," you murmured as you looked at the complied list of all the men she acted as patron for.

"She likely had a bookkeeper to do it for her, can't imagine she would do all this herself," Sam replied as he ran a hand through his hair. "Though she doesn't appear to have employed any bookies in London...."

"What about her husbands? Maybe they did it for her?" You offered, and Sam shook his head as the door opened. "Forget something?"

"Should hope not, considering how much it cost to get here," an unfamiliar voice joked, causing Sam to look towards the doorway.

"Sorry. Clarke Baker, Abbie's supervisor," a man murmured as he stepped into view, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Oh," you breathed as you took in the familiar silver-tinged black locks styled just so, the mismatched eyes of blue and green behind a pair of black frames, wearing a charming grin.

"Who's this?" Clarke asked as he looked at you, making you aware of the fact you were in an old t-shirt with a stain or two, your hair dishevelled and your glasses on the tip of your nose. Felt invasive almost to have him see you like this...and you suspected you knew why.

"Y/N," you retorted with a small smile and a wave as you absolutely drank him in, noticing out of the corner Sam smirking.

"Ah, Abbie's assistant, nice to put a face to a name," he retorted with a grin as Abbie returned, shifting from foot to foot.

"I, uh, need to talk to you about the flight details," she declared, causing Clarke to give you an apologetic shrug before he followed her.

Your heart was thudding in your chest as you felt your cheeks flush, Sam continuing to smirk.

"What?" You asked quickly, trying to look back down at the letter.

"You want me to call him back and then 'conveniently' leave the room?" Sam asked with a grin as he lit a cigarette with his silver lighter, and you scoffed.

"Please, he's probably in his forties, he wouldn't be interested in a twenty-three year old," you retorted, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows.

"You're 23?" He asked in surprise as he absentmindedly began to flick the top on and off in a steady rhythm, and you laughed.

"Yeah, I know, this stunning youthful face of mine right?" You murmured as you shook your head. "Not to mention the rumour about him and Abbie."

The flicking of the lighter stopped, his thumb placed on the cap.

"What rumour?" He asked with interest.

"Usual gossip. That they're screwing," you retorted with a shrug. "Which we both know isn't true. I mean, considering recent events."

"Such as?" Sam asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. "What?"

"You," you retorted as you met his eyes. Or the webcam, at least.

He began to flick the lighter again, his eyes back on the page, though he looked distracted.

"What, you worried?" You asked with a small chuckle. When he didn't respond you found your features softening. "You...you like her?"

He snorted at this, chewing off some skin from the side of his thumbnail.

"No, I'm only in it for the sex, clearly," he retorted with such sarcasm you smiled a little, despite how the declaration made your stomach flop.

"Coulda fooled me," you thought as the clicking stopped again.

"You don't think she's seeing someone else, do you?" He asked and you frowned a little.

"Abbie? No from what I know she...." You began.

"I meant Victoria. We're assuming this was for Olaf, but there's no trace of his name on here," Sam corrected. "She could have written this for another man she acted as patron for...."

"She wrote this for Olaf," you retorted firmly.

"You sound certain," he retorted with a smile.

"She doesn't appear to write to the others like she does to him. The other letters I found are so generic that I'd be surprised if there was a trace of sincerity in there," you replied. "Like you said, she had an empire. That would leave little time to write personal letters to everyone. Not to mention she would want to protect her assets, she couldn't afford to tell all the men about her concerns or where..."

You stopped as the pieces slid into place, beginning to grin.

"She's telling him which ports to go to," you breathed.

"What?" Sam asked as the clicking stopped again.

"The letter. Ottomans is the Ottman Empire...and lounges...well couldn't that be India?" You began. "She wanted to let Olaf know which ports would have the highest hub of activity for trade and exchange."

"But how did she know...." You continued.

Sam darted out of his seat, and you wondered if he was going to get Abbie when he returned with a map and a pen. Silently he traced out the routes in pen, holding it up to the camera.

"So we have three options. Norway, India or...." He began before he lowered the map. "Shit. It's not like the Ottoman Empire was small, was it?"

He made a large series of circles in pencil.

"So we've narrowed it down to basically the world. Great."

"Sorry," you retorted automatically as you deflated.

Sam frowned before he held up the map again, now making smaller circles.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Ports," he retorted simply, crossing off a few. "Most of the Empire seems quite landlocked except for..."

He held up the map again, pointing a grubby finger at a certain port.

"The Balkans?" you replied uncertainly.

"Atta girl," he replied with a grin as he peeked out from behind the map. "So. Three locations and...four of us."

He grinned cheekily.

"Unless you want to come and make it five..."

You rolled your shoulder experimentally and winced.

"Afraid the shoulder's still out of commission," you retorted.

"If you're too afraid just say so kid," he teased, and you bristled as the door opened.

"So," Clarke declared as he sat on the foot of the bed, picking up the letter and inspecting it. "What are we dealing with here?"

"Lost treasure, untold fortune, the usual," Sam replied, though there was a terseness to his tone.

"But you can't find the next step to get there?" Clarke asked as he examined the letter.

"Actually," Sam replied with a smirk. "We already figured it out. Well, Y/N did."

Clarke looked at you in surprise before he grinned.

"Not just a pretty face then," he declared and you felt the heat in your cheeks rise.

"So where are we going?" Abbie declared a tad too quickly, causing Clarke to look up at her.

"We've narrowed it down to Norway, the Balkans and India," Sam explained as he spread out the map. "We're going to have to split up and search."

"Norway," Clarke and Abbie declared at the same time, the latter appearing to turn red.

"That was rather quick," you mused quietly as Sam dialled his cell phone.

"What you got for me kid?" Sully declared on speakerphone.

"Need you to go to India," Sam declared.

"Well, always wanted to see the Taj Mahal...but gonna need more than that to go on," Sully retorted.

"I'll explain later," Sam declared as he set the phone on the desk. "Which leaves the Balkans...."

"I can see if I can find..." You began as Clarke pulled out his phone, already dialling a number.

"No need," he declared. "Contacting a friend of mine who specializes in this sort of thing. He'll be happy to help."

"Oh," you deflated. "Well is there anything you want me to do?"

"Nah," Clarke retorted with a grin and a wink. "If we need you we'll be sure to let you know sweetheart."

Suddenly that grin seemed quite slimy, whatever inkling of attraction that was beginning to grow already withering.

"Thanks," you replied flatly, Sam frowning a little.

"Well guess I'm not unpacking then, am I?" Clarke asked rhetorically as he sauntered out, Abbie on his heels, leaving you once more with Sam.

"Seems like a real charmer," Sully declared, causing you to realize he was still there as Sam began to flick the lighter again.

"We've worked with worse," Sam declared as he leaned back, his shirt shifting slightly with the movement and appearing to tighten across his chest.

Oh. Well. He was a tad more toned than you expected.

"Still expecting you to look through the rest of those letters," Sam declared as he looked at you.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows.

"Really? Why?" You asked skeptically.

"Don't trust the guy," he retorted.

"Just 'cause you think he's a threat to your blossoming relationship?" You asked, causing him to stop flicking the lighter lid.

"Nah," he replied as he stood up, smoothing down the shirt. "Call it a hunch."

"Can't work with just hunches Sam," Sully declared. "Look, I'll keep watch on him, you focus on whatever you think is in the Balkans. Which I still need an explanation for."

Sam nodded, giving you a small smile.

"I'll be sure to get back in contact once I get there. Sound good?" He asked, and you nodded quickly. "Oh, and Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You asked. He watched you for a few moments. "What?"

"Be sure to look up some information on him. Not sure the prick knows what he's talking about," he declared.

After he hung up, you pondered over that sentence.

"Does that include the need my help?" You asked no one in particular.

\-----------------------/////---------------

You awoke at 4 am a few days later, your heart thudding in your chest as the phone continued to ring.

You groggily answered it, pushing your hair back as you wetted your lips.

"Hello?" You declared groggily. "Y/N's tech assistance, how may I help you?"

"It's here," Sam declared in lieu of introduction.

"What is?" You asked sleepily.

"You were right. She got Olaf to come to the Balkans. I took a picture of her next letter."

You checked your messages to find two images, one of the front of the letter while on the back was a map.

"Holy shit," you breathed.

"Holy shit indeed kid," Sam declared eagerly, for once the term not bothering you, if only because of how damn HAPPY Sam sounded. "She actually laid it out for us...."

"Unless it's a red herring to get you to go to Italy," you declared. "While the treasure is somewhere else..."

"But at least it's something, right?" Sam declared as you sighed. "Cmon Y/N, be a little excited."

"I am," you retorted defensively. "I'm just...skeptical. Isn't treasure hunting supposed to be difficult? Why would she..."

A shot rang through the air.

"Shit," Sam yelled as you heard him cock his gun. "Guess I'm on the right track..."

Your heart was in your throat as a few more shots went off, the phone line suddenly going dead.

"Fuck," you swore as you leapt out of bed, going to your laptop before you stopped yourself.

What the hell could you do? It wasn't like you were some gifted hacker or something actually useful.

So you settled for going into your kitchen, making some tea....and waiting with your stomach in a knot.

You could just picture it, him on the ground, bleeding out and you nearly burnt your hands on the kettle as it whistled.

You went through the motions, trying to banish the image and failing miserably.

Oh God, what if no one found him in time? He was alone there, not even Sully to help him out.

You stared at the phone, willing it to ring as you ran your hands up and down the sides of the mug.

You felt the tears prick behind your eyes and you let them flow out, every awful possibility flooding your mind.

You went to call Sully when the phone rang. You scrambled to pick it up, nearly knocking over the tea in the process.

"Sorry, the phone..." Sam began.

"Oh thank God you're alive," you breathed, and he laughed.

"What, you were worried?" He asked almost cockily. "Didn't know you cared."

"Of course I care Sam," you replied sharply. "You're my friend."

"Am I?" Sam teased. "Nice to know after all these weeks working together you consider me a friend."

"Don't be an ass," you replied as the tears began to fall again, this time in relief. "So where are you going now?"

"Like I said, Italy," Sam replied. "What, you weren't paying attention?"

You gave a wet laugh at that.

"I can take care of myself, Y/N. I'm fine," Sam replied, a bit softer now. "Don't cry over an old man, alright? I can handle myself."

"You're not that old," you retorted as you wiped your eyes. "And allow me to cry over the people I care about, alright?"

"Alright kid, do what you want," he replied with a small laugh. "I'll let you know when the rest of the gang get to Italy."

"Take care of yourself," you replied, and you could hear him grin through the phone.

"Only because my dear friend Y/N asked,"  
He practically purred, and you felt something low in your belly spike.

Oh. Oh no.

"I...I mean it," you retorted gently. "Bye, Sam."

"So do I," he retorted after a few moments, hanging up soon after.

You held the phone for a few moments longer than necessary, gently placing it back onto the table.

Thinking of his warm grin and intelligent eyes, his unparalleled joy when you found that clue. How undeniably, well, gorgeous he looked in that single moment.

Thinking how you nearly lost that.

"Fuck," you murmured as you stood up.

You normally didn't drink liquor...but this seemed like a good exception. To calm your frayed nerves, of course.

Not for the realization you just might be attracted to a man double your age. Nope. Not at all.

"Fuck," you breathed as you got down some of the liquor. You poured some out, downing it in the next moment and shuddering.

Well.

You could take comfort in the fact you weren't in love with him or something.

Now THAT would be awful.


	4. Deciphering Maps....And Intentions

You weren't quite sure if you had been expecting some cataclysmic shift to occur in terms of your...could you could it a partnership with Sam? Was that what it was?

But there you were, once again helping a man in a completely separate continent. Only difference was how you felt watching the man on the other side of the screen.

The curve of his lips when he smiled, the certain mischief in his eyes, not to mention his toned frame...well. It was a wonder you hadn't come to your realization a lot sooner.

Not that it would have helped anything. As your British peers would say, Samuel Drake was completely soppy about Abigail Victor.

Or maybe you had mistaken sex for genuine affection. Who knew with him, actually. The damn man seemed so careless 90 percent of the time it was a stunning fact he had not been killed so far.

The crew had been split in half, Sully and Sam chasing down the lead in Italy while Abbie and Clarke were still in Norway. Something about meeting one of Clarke's friends to go over a few things in order to find the treasure.

You wondered if they were all as smarmy as him.

You didn't hear much from Sam for awhile, clearly too busy hunting down the next clue, and it made the days seem longer than usual. Made you realize how much time you spent on his...Abbie's and his mission.

You practically stumbled into a job at the library, helping out wherever was necessary, spending the rest of the time continuing to look up information.

It was tedious work though, giving you a lot of time to ponder as you slipped books back into their proper places on the shelves. Mostly about affairs of the heart, pathetically.

You at least had the decency to be a little ashamed when your cell phone buzzed in your pocket, practically dropping the book in your hands as you scrambled to check the message.

"How's my favourite researcher? - Sam"

A small grin blossomed on your features as you read and reread the message.

"Working on other things besides your little treasure hunt."

You could picture him chuckling at that, the thought making your heart race.

God, you really liked him didn't you?

"Well if it's possible...we might have run into a snag. Or four."

You laughed a little as you responded.

"Or four? What does that mean?"

His response was to send a picture of a model ship cracked clean in half, a map unfurled beside it.

There were certain locations circled on the map, most of them land masses you didn't recognize.

Oh. Oh no.

"I see what you mean by snags. It...it looks like some map you find in a fantasy novel..."

"Victoria wasn't an amateur cartographer by any chance?" Sam asked.

"Afraid not. Though her sister was. Might have been a present for Victoria? A wedding gift?"

"Then why would she put it in an amateur boat? And for a world that doesn't exist?"

You frowned at that as your phone began to ring. Your stomach plunged as you made your excuses, scrambling outside before you answered.

"Maybe it's a cipher or something?"

"What is?" Abbie answered, and you found yourself deflating slightly.

"Sam said he found a map in some model boat. Problem is that it isn't for any place that exists...."

You heard the phone being shuffled around before someone spoke, and any warm feelings that had been in you rapidly began to cool.

"What's the map look like?" Clarke asked, and you held the phone away from your ear to check.

"Would you believe it if I said a map?" you wanted to answer sarcastically.

"Fantasy novel type of thing. Landforms that don't exist, place names that are clearly made up..." you began.

There was a sharp intake of breath on his end.

"Send it to me," he demanded more than asked, and you frowned.

You complied with the request, his response silent before you heard the phone click.

"Douche," you muttered before you dialled Sam's number.

It rung a few times before he picked up.

"You never answered my questions," Sam declared, and for a moment you swore there was an almost flirty edge to it.

You must have imagined that.

"I sent the picture off to Clarke and Abbie. They should be able to figure it out," you replied as you heard papers being shuffled around.

"But what's your best bet? Based on what you know?" Sam asked, and you frowned again.

"Why are you asking me?" You retorted incredulously.

"Why, is there someone else researching all about Victoire's life at the moment?" He teased a little, warmth blossoming in your cheeks.

You wracked your brain for any explanation for the fictional map, checking it over again.

"My first guess is a cipher," you began.

"But?"

"But why hide something important like that in a model boat you couldn't open without ruining it?" You replied as you glanced back at the library.

"I think the break is an improvement," Sam retorted. "Wasn't even that accurate. More of a...."

He stopped suddenly.

"Holy shit," he interrupted himself, papers once again being shuffled.

"What?" You asked, his only response to keep shuffling through the papers at a faster pace.

"Victoire's husbands were sterile right?" He asked, and you nodded before you realized he couldn't see that.

"According to history. She was in it for the wealth, not the progeny," you replied.

"But Olaf wasn't, was he?" Sam retorted eagerly, and your mouth fell open. "What if this wasn't meant for Victoria at all?"

"Olaf wouldn't be able to claim the child as his own without causing a scandal," you replied excitedly.

"But that wouldn't stop him from leaving them a little present...maybe he got someone else on the ship to build it for them to remember him by," Sam continued as your heart fluttered in sheer excitement.

"To find him again once it was safe to do so," you continued softly before your eyes widened. "Wait. Oh my God."

You scrambled back inside, practically tearing up to the second floor (and apologizing to one of your coworkers that you nearly knocked over in the process) before you frantically searched the shelves.

You ran your fingers along the spines before you tugged the book down, flipping through the pages before you found what you were looking for.

"Known as the Belle of the Baltic Sea, Astrid Johansen joined Olaf's crew at the tender age of 22, having run away from her husband to the frustration of her mother and bemusement of her father. Loyal to the Swede, the two appeared to share a tender friendship and it was Astrid who was eventually given his fleet upon his sudden death," you read out in a whisper so as not to disturb the other people on the floor.

"So all the fictional places are what, his main ports?" Sam murmured.

"Seems likely," you replied as your boss looked at you pointedly. "Shit. I gotta go. Uhhh....be sure to send me more later."

"Will do," Sam replied, and you went to hang up before you hesitated.

"Sam?" You asked gently as your boss approached.

"Yeah?"

"Be safe, alright?" You ordered more than asked, earning you a warm chuckle.

"Just because it's you," he replied with likely less fondness than you were interpreting, and yet you couldn't keep the small grin off your features as you hung up.

"Sorry. I'll get back to shelving," you declared as you walked past her. She looked slightly displeased....though you swore you detected a small smile on her features of amusement.

Probably at your goddamn lovesick grin.

Christ, how pathetic were you?

\-------------------------------------------//-----------------------------------------------------

You were pouring over the information Sam had sent you as you sat at your kitchen table, the notes spread out around you.

This only appeared to be getting more and more complicated, and you were wondering if you would ever see the end of it when your cell phone buzzed.

You put it on speaker as you continued to work, picking up the latest picture and inspecting it closely.

"Sam's favourite researcher, how may I help?" You joked with a grin, expecting to hear a warm chuckle.

"It's a dead end, we gotta drop it," Sam retorted instead with some disappointment.

You lowered the paper back onto the table as you stared at the phone.

"What do you mean?" You asked as your eyebrows rose.

"The map. It's a dead end, the places don't make up any ports or countries that exist now or at the time," Sam declared with a begrudging air that made you frown.

"Why would you..." you began before it dawned on you. "Clarke found something else."

"Yep," Sam retorted with a sigh, and you found yourself smirking.

"What? You jealous someone else found and solved the clues?" You asked. "You're supposed to be working as a team, remember? You can't solve everything on your own."

There wasn't a response from the normally chatty man and your frown deepened.

"What's going on?" You asked gently.

"Nothing, kid. Sully can give you the details," Sam retorted, hearing him pass the phone over.

You lingered on the 'kid' comment more than you would like to admit.

"What's going on Sully?" You tried again, greeted with a tired sigh.

"Our friend Clarke apparently consulted someone in Norway about the map," Sully retorted. "They said it was worthless. Sam didn't agree."

"As he does," you retorted with a small smile, the past few months making you more than privy to Sam's tendency towards stubbornness.

Sully chuckled at that.

"I don't get why he's so upset though," you replied honestly. "So it's a dead end. We can work around it."

There was the sound of someone opening and closing a door before Sully responded.

"Abigail sided with Clarke."

"Well that's not a surprise," you replied, setting the photo down.

"Why not?"

You couldn't help but smirk.

"If you had to choose to trust the man you've known for two years or someone you met two months ago, I'm pretty sure you'd pick the former. Sorry."

"Can't help but agree with you there," Sully retorted. "Though it appears our friend didn't get the memo."

Sully sighed to himself.

"Kid really seems to like her. Haven't seen a Drake this moony over a girl since Nate."

Your stomach clenched unpleasantly at that little fact and you were glad Sully and Sam weren't there to see the pained expression on your features.

"I wouldn't worry about it," you retorted as you looked at the documents and photos, more for something to do than anything else so as not to focus on the last time you had seen the pair of them together.

You heard the door open and for a moment you wondered if Sam would want to talk to you again. Well, hoped more than wondered. Not that there would be much you could say to him besides empty reassurances about Abbie that you didn't want to make for selfish reasons.

Instead you were given a quick goodbye and a promise to phone if you were needed for anything else.

And just like that, you were left on your own, thoughts of the expedition and your own emotions jumbling together harshly.

You looked at the images again, holding them close to your face before you sighed and set them down again.

You should probably throw them out if they were a dead end. Not like they would be useful later on for anything pertaining to this grand treasure or treasures they were searching for.

And yet you kept them anyways, sliding the information into a folder and setting it aside before you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

You rested your head in your arms and let out a long sigh as you slumped against the table. Your forehead pressed against the cool wood as you closed your eyes.

You hoped all this effort you were putting into this little endeavour would be worth it. You had earned your Masters already, you'd had enough of research for a few years at least.

You knew you'd continue to do it though, for all the reasons you shouldn't.

You wondered if Sam felt the same way about Abbie. You hoped so. It was comforting in some way to know she had someone like him on her side to help if things got too dicey.

You rubbed your shoulder, the wound already closed and leaving a scar the size of a quarter.

Not that his presence had helped you much.

In fact....you could probably say with confidence that things had only gotten messier and much, much more dangerous for Abbie and you since the arrival of one Samuel Drake.

And...and you sort of liked it, in some strange way. No, that was a lie.

If it had been anyone else asking you to do this, you would politely decline and secretly call them insane for even thinking you would be interested.

But it was Sam. Your...your friend. Yeah, that's what he was. Huh. Never thought you'd be friends with a treasure hunter nearly double your age.

Though you'd never follow him to the ends of the earth. God no. You had SOME sensibility after all. Eventually you would be unable to help him, and your partnership would fade away. Become a nice memory to tell your kids about.

You wondered why that caused such a sharp knot to form in your stomach.

 


	5. Radio Silence

There had been radio silence for a month when you had received that phone call. 

You were concerned for all the reasons you knew you shouldn't be. If they were able to find the information without your input, that was better, right? Less expensive for the both of you. 

But...you'd helped them thus far. And you kind of wanted to see this through to the end. 

You wondered with some amusement if you'd get any of the treasure once they found it. 

Your shoulder was completely healed by now, the skin puckered around the exit site of the bullet leaving a noticeable scar. It still hurt sometimes, but other than that you were completely recuperated. 

So technically, you could try and join them. You didn't expect the expedition to keep going for much longer, with Abbie eventually needing to come back to grad school and Clarke needing to be in Edinburgh to supervise her. 

And if the gossip were true, the woman you had been replacing for her maternity leave was coming back soon. Meaning you wouldn't have a job for much longer. 

There was nothing holding you back except yourself. And that proved to be the largest hurdle of all. 

Because your logical mind couldn't reason doing this. You'd be risking going back into a situation where you could be easily shot again, perhaps even killed if things went wrong. 

Not to mention you had no clue how to fire a gun and you weren't keen to trump through various locales for scraps of clues. You were more useful to them here. 

Even if you'd likely grown redundant due to Clarke's people, academics with better resources and more experience in this time period than you. 

So you hesitated, and you stayed. 

And you hated yourself a little for it. 

Because you couldn't deny that a large percentage of you wanted to go. To see history come alive, to have an experience you could recount with fondness and pride. 

But you stayed anyways, patiently waiting by a phone that never rung and a laptop that never pinged. 

Until, of course, it did. 

You'd practically scrambled to answer it, your tone eager as you asked how you could help and you half-expected Sam to start chuckling. 

"Have you heard from Abbie?" Sam asked you instead, his tone concerned as you could practically hear him pacing. 

"I haven't heard from any of you. Why?" You asked as you frowned. 

"Shit," Sam retorted. "Well if you do be sure to let me know, alright?"

"How long has it been since she contacted you?" You asked as your stomach began to knot. 

"Same amount of time since I've talked to you," Sam retorted, and all the worst possibilities flashed through your mind. 

"Where was she the last time you spoke?" You asked, trying to remember if there had been any earthquakes or tsunamis or any other natural disaster that would prevent her from picking up the phone. 

"Stockholm, last time I heard. Her and Clarke were following some lead, they were going to join us here last week."

"Except they never showed," you retorted, opening up your laptop and searching on Google for the unlikely possibility of some civil conflict breaking out. 

The only news that appeared to come up was typical of any country. A few car crashes, politics and mindless gossip about celebrities. 

You searched for Abbie's name, the only things to come up her academic profile and some Facebook posts. 

Your Facebook messenger pinged as someone added something to the group chat for your study group. 

"Holy shit, Clarke's gonna lose his tenure!!!!!"

"You find anything?" Sam asked worriedly, and you nodded before you realized he couldn't see you. 

"I might have. Hold on."

You watched people add their exclamations of shock to the news, waiting until it cooled down before you typed your response. 

"Holy crap. Why? He get caught screwing a grad student or something lol?"

You tried to keep it as light as possible considering how your heart was pounding. 

"You mean that Abbie? Yeah probably."

"No, he hasn't contributed any research for the past two years or something."

"Not sure if that still applies if they've have always been screwing. Not like they were subtle."

"Makes sense. To both haha. Too bad, he seemed like a good prof."

"Wait, he's with Abbie? Shit. Well there goes all my fantasies lol."

"You sure? About both?" You asked. 

"Positive. Waited to speak to him for office hours once and I heard them going at it on his desk. Nearly filmed it for shits and giggles."

"Just talked to my supervisor. Yeah the tenure thing is true."

You sat back, your heart in your throat as you heard Sam on the other end of the line taking deep lungfuls of smoke. 

"Oh God," you murmured, pity welling up inside you. 

"What?" Sam asked, and you closed your eyes as you sat back in your chair. "[Y/N], is everything alright?"

"Sam, I..." you began before you took a deep breath. 

What the hell were you supposed to say? That the woman he clearly had more than a little something for was giving a little something else to her supervisor? That Clarke was just as much of a bastard as you expected? 

Hell, he was likely so desperate for tenure that he might just screw over Sam and Sully to claim the treasure and glory for himself. 

Oh God. That's exactly what he was doing. 

Though you couldn't figure out what Abbie would get out of it besides residual glory by association. 

"Is she alright?" He asked worriedly. 

"You need to get to Stockholm. I...I think Clarke is trying to screw you over," you declared, and Sam didn't respond. "Abbie's....well she's with him."

Sam still wasn't talking, and you wanted to make false reassurances when he spoke. 

"In every sense, right?" He retorted flatly. 

"I'm sorry, Sam. I know how much you cared about her and who knows I might..."

You heard the phone being passed off alongside some low words that you couldn't distinguish. 

"You think they're still in Sweden?" Sully interrupted, and you shook your head. 

"Not likely," you replied gently. "Sorry that they screwed you over. I...I could understand Clarke, but Abbie...I thought..."

"Can't say I'm surprised, kid. Never trusted that guy," he retorted. He let out a sigh. 

"Does this happen a lot? This kind of thing, I mean?" 

"More than I'd like to admit."

You heard the door slam open and close with as much force in the background. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," you declared. 

"Trust me, it's better he knows now and not when we're in front of some building with guns to our head."

"That was...oddly specific," you commented as you searched for the folder that contained the map. 

You eventually retrieved it, quickly scanning it and emailing it to them. 

"I just sent the documents over. The map likely has a cipher, though I don't know the key," you declared. 

"Thanks. Once Sam is done sulking we'll work on it," Sully retorted. "We'll let you know how it goes."

"Sorry I can't be more help."

Sully laughed a little. 

"I think you're doing enough already. But thanks for the offer kid. Be sure to let us know if Abbie contacts you. We're gonna need every advantage we can get now."

"Will do," you replied half-heartedly before you hung up. 

\-------------------------------------------///----------------------------------------------------

There was a certain desperation to Sam's video calls that wasn't there before in the week or two that followed. 

You weren't sure what he was racing for, the treasure or Abbie (or if they were the same thing in his mind), but his good humour was rapidly fading. 

Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and he barely spoke a word to you outside of the task at hand. 

You wondered if he was mad at you too due to your association with Abbie. You didn't ask though. 

You knew it wouldn't help anything. 

Your heart ached for him as he seemed to be teetering towards something you couldn't help him step away from, always smoking and barely smiling. 

It wasn't until he confused two of the dates from the information you had gathered, and then didn't seem to care that he had done so, that you realized how much this was all impacting him. 

You thought it had all been sex. No, you had hoped that was all it was. Because then it meant there was a slim possibility that he might...well it didn't matter now did it? He clearly loved her in some way. 

It figured the week it all went to hell would be the week you were let go from the library. 

You had been the replacement for a woman on maternity leave, her re-appearance meaning you needed to make your departure. There simply wasn't room on the staff for you, it seemed. 

You felt awful for how that made you secretly glad. Though you would have liked some form of income. 

Technically there was nothing holding you back now. You could easily get a ticket to Stockholm, meet them there....and then what? Confront your former boss and her supervisor?

You didn't even want to think about anyone else who might be desperate for this treasure. 

And besides, Sam would probably think you'd be slowing him down.

You'd stay here, get another job. Help from a distance. It was what you were good at, and it was safe. 

Only you were starting to wonder if it was your practicality or your cowardice talking. 

Sam and Sully needed all the help they could get. And you could just as easily hole yourself up in some hotel room as here. 

But you'd be leaving everything you knew to go chasing after a treasure that might not even exist. Unable to use a weapon and not that active, you'd be next to useless in actuality. 

You ultimately asked Sam what to do, your words nervous as his amber eyes watched you tiredly. 

"I know I might slow you down but maybe it'll be easier if I'm there and we don't need to think about time differences...."

"What about Abbie?" He interrupted, and you weren't sure how to respond. 

Abbie might have screwed Sam over, but she was a friend of sorts. And it could just be she was following a man she adored without thinking about the consequences. 

Weren't you considering doing the same thing? 

"Abbie...she chose him," you murmured with a heavy sigh. "And if she's helping Clarke then I don't want to help her."

You risked a small smile. 

"Besides, she hasn't contacted me so I assume I'm no use to her anymore."

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. 

"It's up to you and Sully. If you want...if you think I can be useful then I'll come. And if you don't want me there then that's fine too."

"Your call, Sam. It's your treasure after all," Sully piped in, and Sam looked at you.

"She's a fast learner. We'll be able to teach her what else she needs to know," he declared, and for a moment there was a small smile. "She hasn't let us down yet, has she?"

You nodded a tad too eagerly, and Sam's mouth quirked up a little more before he looked at the papers beside him. 

"Sully can arrange your transport to Stockholm. We'll meet you at Arlanda and go from there. If you're still interested in coming, that is."

You found yourself grinning. 

"Of course. Not gonna abandon you JUST yet. Maybe later when I run off with all the treasure..."

That earned you a small chuckle. 

"Looking forward to it."

\-------------------------////------------------------

Oh God. Oh God you were actually here, sitting on your carry-on in an airport in Sweden waiting for Sam and Sully to come find you. 

You watched a young couple embrace, the woman clinging to the other before they kissed giddily, and for a moment you mused about your reunion with Sam going the same way. 

A girl could dream, couldn't she?

"I forgot how tiny you are, nearly didn't see you," a familiar voice declared with a chuckle and your heart leapt into your throat as you looked up. 

There were still bags under his eyes and it was clear his jacket had seen better days, his hair in need of a wash and the wrinkles on his features only more prominent in the fluorescent lighting. 

God, he was gorgeous. 

You were surprised once you stood up that Sam brought you into a hug, the scent of nicotine and ink filling your nose. 

You didn't think your friendship had progressed that far to be honest. Or maybe he just hugged everyone. No. No don't overthink this, just enjoy the moment. 

He withdrew, taking your carry-on for you before he led you towards the car where Sully was waiting. 

"How you feeling?" Sully asked as you slid into the backseat, and your response was a barely suppressed yawn. 

"Sorry. Tired. So what's the plan?"

"Alright, so the map has two possibilities. Gotland would make sense if Olaf intended for Astrid to meet him by sea, but the cipher also spells out Småland," Sam explained, and for a moment you drank him in again, still in some form of shock that you were actually here. "[Y/N]? You still with me?"

You flushed a little and nodded, grateful when he seemed to ignore it. 

"Småland is where he was born," you retorted, and Sam nodded for you to continue. "From what I've read I think he always intended to come back."

"Did he though?" Sully asked. 

"Once or twice, from what I've read. But not for very long. He actually ended up dying on his ship during what was supposed to be his final visit before he settled."

"And you two think he left something behind there," Sully declared as he drove. 

"If Astrid was going to follow him, she would have lost everything. Title and wealth, family shame, the whole bit," Sam explained. "Her father probably wanted her to be secure in some way. Makes sense he would want to lead her to some hidden stash of gold."

"Or give her the full independence her mother never had," you added. 

"Alright. Tiny Swedish province, here we come," Sully sighed as he drove. 

The car fell into a comfortable sort of silence, your head resting against your sweater that you had placed against the window. 

You closed your eyes for what was supposed to be a moment, only to be jolted awake by the car going over a bump. 

You yawned as you took in the scenery, the late afternoon sun streaming through the car as Sam and Sully spoke. 

"....how long are we supposed to keep chasing this?" Sully asked. 

"As long as it takes," Sam retorted around something in his mouth before he removed it, scribbling something down. 

"What if there's nothing Samuel?" Sully retorted. "I've turned down other jobs, quicker jobs, that could actually pay."

"You're saying what? You're out now?" Sam replied. 

"I'm saying this is turning into a wild goose chase where someone else might have caught the bird," Sully countered. 

"We'll find it Sullivan," Sam retorted sharply. 

"Look, Clarke seems like an ass, but he isn't Rafe. Clarke can be reasoned with. If we find him, we could convince him to help us again."

"Why the hell would we do that?" Sam hissed. "He screwed us over, remember?"

Sully sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel before he spoke. 

"Kid, if it was just us I'd say storm the castle. But she's here now," Sully declared, gesturing towards you causing your heart to pound. 

"She can take care of herself," Sam retorted, and you couldn't help but smile a little. 

"She's our researcher, not a treasure hunter," Sully countered. "No amount of reading is gonna prep her for this. You know that."

"I trust her," Sam replied simply. 

"You trusted Abbie too. Look where that got you," Sully retorted, causing Sam to shake his head. 

"C'mon, it's not even close to the same situation," Sam replied, and for some reason Sully chuckled. 

"You sure about that kid?" 

Sam didn't respond at first, electing to look out the window before he rolled it down. 

The cool air stung your cheeks as you heard his lighter flick, a cigarette set between his lips. 

He made sure to blow the smoke out the window, flicking the ashes out onto the road and it was oddly graceful to watch. 

Weird. You didn't associate grace with the six foot three man. Charm, sure, but not subtlety and grace. That's what Sully appeared to be for. 

And to make sure Sam didn't do anything really stupid, you guessed. 

"She's not gonna sell us out," Sam finally spoke. 

"That's not what I meant," Sully retorted. 

Sam took another drag before he responded. 

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm interested in her?" Sam murmured before he chuckled. "What happened to 'minding our own goddamn business'?"

"If it risks the job, it is my goddamn business," Sully retorted. "Nate got lucky. Can't say I trust the same will happen with you."

"Well Sullivan, let me state for the record that I am in no way interested in our little researcher," Sam declared, and your stomach plummeted so sharply you expected it to be resting in your abdomen now. 

"Alright kid, just making sure," Sully retorted. "And you don't think she's...."

"Nah," Sam replied with such confidence it made your eyes prick. Sully didn't respond. "C'mon. What 20-something would wanna hook up with a guy in their forties? Besides those with daddy issues, I mean."

All you wanted to do was pull open the car door and roll out onto the grass beside the road.

"Abbie is 27, remember?" Sully teased, and Sam sighed out the smoke. 

"Yeah, but she was gorgeous. C'mon, you're saying if you were my age and THAT came walking through the door you wouldn't go for it?"

Sully smirked. 

"Who says I couldn't at this age?" Sully retorted cockily, earning him an amused chuckle. 

You wished you could laugh too. 

You wished you could feel some other emotions besides sadness and anger, the latter at yourself for even thinking he might be interested. 

You wished you could just go back home, forget about all this. 

But most of all, you wished you had never met Samuel Drake. 

Because nothing that felt this painful could be worth a treasure that might not even exist. 

But...you stuck to your commitments. You were going to help him find it, claim it and then disappear from his life forever. Give him the opportunity to find someone to replace the hole that Abbie had left. 

After all, the cocky, impulsive, shallow bastard 'deserved' to find someone more to his 'tastes', didn't he?


	6. The Belle of the Baltic

"Find anything useful?"

You sat on the bed, letters and photographs strewn around you as you kept your laptop open beside you.

"Not yet," you replied tensely, typing some notes after you set down a letter from Olaf to Victoria, brimming with pride at her accomplishments as well as a palpable tension.

Nothing about a hidden hoarde of gold and jewels, though. Not to mention whatever else he had collected over the years.

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he trudged over to the worn armchair, practically flopping into it. He barely stifled a yawn, and all you wanted to do was tell him to keep his mouth shut.

It had only gotten worse in the past few days, whatever pleasant emotions you had once associated with him rapidly beginning to fade. What you had once thought was charm became pure sleaze, to the point you were making excuses to slip out of the room.

You knew it was childish to be this upset. But it hurt. It really, really fucking hurt knowing he did not care for you in the same way you once cared about him.

He stood up, rolling his shoulders before he approached the bed. He peered over your shoulder at the letter in your hand, and you all but shoved it into his face.

"Here. Been trying to solve this for the past hour, damn cipher doesn't make any sense," you declared, Sam frowning before he took the paper from your hands.

"You alright there kid?" He asked in confusion.

"Peachy," you muttered as you checked a photograph, typing some notes concerning the location and the clues it entailed.

"Y/N, stop," he declared, and you ignored him, continuing to type. He sighed, taking the photo from your hands causing you to let out a surprised noise. You watched him set it down on the bed. "C'mon, you've done enough for today."

"No, I'm fine," you declared, trying to snatch the photograph only for him to take it away. You sighed, rubbing your eyes before you held our your hand, waiting for him to give the photo back.

When he didn't you looked at him sharply, his amber eyes crinkling in amusement before he turned his back to you.

"You know, I think this needs closer inspection," he declared before he opened the door, moonlight streaming in.

"Sam, c'mon, give it back," you declared, and he only shrugged before he slipped out. "Damn child...."

You reluctantly followed, stepping onto the deck surrounding the upper level of the motel as he placed the photo in his pocket.

He lit a cigarette, sighing out the smoke as you approached, leaning against the railing just so. The moonlight only seemed to emphasize his profile and your heart clenched painfully.

You leaned against the railing beside him, rubbing your arms in the cool night air as you tried not to look at him.

"So you want to tell me what's going on?" Sam asked, the pair of you looking out onto the small forest near the motel where a teenage couple appeared to be sneaking around in.

Yeah, you bastards, rub it in why don't you?

"Just...tired," you half-lied, stifling a yawn. "And concerned we won't find the treasure before Abbie and Clarke."

Sam placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"I have faith in ya," he retorted with a small smile. "You're doing fine, don't worry."

"I don't feel like I am," you murmured honestly as he released your shoulder. "None of the ciphers make sense anymore, it's all love letters, and we both know I can't compete with someone who's been doing this for years."

"Hey hey hey, don't be so down on yourself," Sam declared, nudging your shoulder with his arm before he met your eyes. "You're pretty damn impressive, kid. You wanna know what my greatest achievement was at 23?"

You nodded for him to continue.

"Being able to successfully run down the street in Portugal, no shoes, pants practically around my ankles after I slept with some lawyer's wife," Sam declared, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "To be fair, I didn't know he was gonna be coming home that day..."

"God, you're disgusting," you muttered as you began to make your way back to your room.

Sam circled around you, blocking your path as he looked down at you.

"What's going on [Y/N]?" He asked as he frowned, and you scoffed.

"What, because I'm not impressed like Abbie would be, something must be clearly wrong with me?" You retorted sharper than you intended.

He looked stunned and you closed your eyes.

"Sorry. I'm just...exhausted. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

You opened your eyes and stepped around him, slipping into your room and closing the door.

You gathered up the papers and the like on your bed, making sure to save your work before you closed your laptop.

You set it all onto the TV stand in a messy pile, slipping out of your pants and shoes before you slipped under the cheap comforter.

You flicked off the light, staring at the patterns made on the ceiling by the moon as you lay there.

You swiped angrily at the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks, all your frustration due to being unable to solve the ciphers and Sam being....well Sam pouring out until you were practically a wreck.

"Fuck," you swore to yourself, sitting up as you cupped your hands over your mouth so you wouldn't make too much noise.

You curled into yourself, your knees against your chest as you kept telling yourself to stop crying.

You were being weak, you were better than this, you were acting like the child Sam clearly thought you were....

You heard the door beside yours open and close gently, you were terrified Sam would knock on your door. That you would be forced to answer it and he would find you like this.

Because then he would ask questions, be nice and charming and then it would all come tumbling out.

So, of course, with the tears still streaming down your face, he knocked on the door.

You hurriedly wiped your eyes, slipping out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants before you opened the door.

"Yeah?" You declared as you met his eyes briefly before looking away.

"Can I come in?" He asked politely.

"For what?" You retorted more sharply than you intended, and this time you didn't apologize for it.

"Do you wanna go back home, kid?" He responded, and you looked at him questioningly. "If it's all too much no one is gonna be mad at you..."

Some tears began to fall down your cheeks, ashamed at your behaviour which Sam had only returned with undeserved decency.

"No no, I'll be fine. Like I said, I'm tired," you tried to excuse yourself, and when you forced yourself to look at him again he genuinely looked concerned.

That was what broke whatever composure you were struggling to hold onto, the combination of frustration and anger causing hot tears to roll down your cheeks once more.

"Can I come in?" He tried again, and you nodded weakly.

He closed the door behind him, going past you towards the letter pile. He searched through it before he pulled one letter out, sitting at the foot of your bed.

He patted the spot beside him, and you looked at him questioningly.

"C'mon, wanna show you something," he murmured.

You tentatively sat down beside him, trying to stop your crying the best you could.

You felt him squeeze your hand comfortingly and that only made the tears fall faster and harder as you detested yourself for how nice that action made you feel, how your heart pounded. Knowing that for him it was simply a friendly gesture, no lovely flutterings associated with it in the slightest.

"God kid, you're a mess," he declared with a small chuckle, and all you could give him was a watery smile as you nodded. "Luckily for you, you are talking to the king of screw-ups, so you're in good company."

"You don't seem so bad," you replied politely, and he shook his head.

"Did I ever tell you about Henry Avery? And the Gunsway heist?" He asked, and you shook your head. "Well, there was this famed pirate treasure of Henry Avery, and we had been chasing down this lead in Panama because we heard that another pirate..."

He looked down at you and stopped himself, sighing a little.

"Point is, I became so damn focused on finding it that I put everyone at risk when we were close to actually getting it," Sam continued. "Nearly got myself killed too."

He met your eyes.

"And while my little brother doesn't think so, I did learn from my mistakes. At least a little bit."

He nudged your shoulder and you smiled weakly.

"I'm not gonna push you into doing anything you can't if you don't want to. If you want out, say the word and we can send you home. Alright?"

You nodded, wiping at your eyes as you debated if that was the best decision.

You glanced down at the letter in his hand, wondering what was so important about it. He followed your gaze and smiled a little.

"If you wanna stay, thought you could take some comfort knowing that Victoria had no idea what she was doing either," Sam declared, holding the letter out to you.

You tentatively took it, wiping your eyes as you tried to read the handwriting.

"We might have done impressive feats at 23, but she practically had an armada at her fingertips," Sam declared as you read her polite phrases in a new light.

Her subtext implied a surprising amount of fear and loathing that she could not outwardly state. Doubts that she could manage what was given to her. Her desire for Olaf's company to reassure her that she could do this.

"It's up to you, kid. You want out, we'll get you out. Pretty sure we can tackle some professor and his grad student."

He grabbed your hand again, this time just holding it and your heart leapt again.

"But I'd appreciate having other company than a grumpy old man," he murmured with a grin.

"Aren't you one too?" You retorted with a watery chuckle, and he laughed.

"Unfortunately," he retorted, releasing your hand before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Guess that makes you...what? A child?"

You knew he meant it as a joke and yet you began crying again.

He made a small sound in his throat before he pulled you close, and you practically clung to him.

"It's not just about Victoire, is it?" He murmured, and you nodded against his chest. "Alright, tell good ol Uncle Sam about it..."

His hand was rubbing comfortingly circles into your back, and you didn't try to shove him away, physically or verbally.

You gave yourself this moment, to just let yourself be held by him, no matter how much you knew it would hurt afterwards.

"Nothing went like it was supposed to," you murmured through your tears. "You essentially ruined my summer job..."

He chuckled at that.

"But at least I can look back on this and say I did something worthwhile with my life, right?" You continued, no more tears left in your system now. "I mean, not many grad students can say they're also treasure hunters..."

"Except for those ambitious dicks, right?" He retorted, and you giggled. He gave you a comforting squeeze. "You'll figure it out. Don't worry. You're young, it's not like you're gonna be locked in some prison for thirteen years."

"That what happen to you?" You asked in surprise.

He only nodded, resting his chin on top of yours.

"You know, I think I would have made a killer grad student. Of course, I would need to finish high school. And then a university degree. And that's too much schooling for an old man."

He released you then, and you sat back as you wiped away the remainder of your tears.

"You're not that old," you replied, and he shrugged.

"Another life maybe," he replied as he stood up. He picked up a few of those letters on the TV stand. "Hey, you mind if I look at these?"

"Your expedition," you reminded him, and he tucked them under his arm.

He wrapped his other arm around your shoulders, chapped lips suddenly against your forehead.

It sent a jolt through you, stomach plunging as your heart pounded. There was no way to interpret this besides genuine affection, and it gave you a hope that you knew you shouldn't have.

"Sam, there's something I think...." you began quietly.

"Get yourself some sleep, alright? We can go over all this in the morning," he interrupted, his breath warm against your forehead.

He withdrew, making his way to the door before he hesitated.

"We...we can also discuss if you want to stay."

You smiled weakly.

"What, you think you can get rid of me that easily?" You replied quietly. "I need to see if this damn hoarde is even real after all my hard work..."

He grinned at that, opening the door and slipping out, making sure to close it behind him.

You were too tired from the sobbing and tumultuous emotions to even think thankfully, crawling into bed and closing your eyes.

You fell asleep within moments.

\---------------------------------------------------///--------------------------------------------

You weren't sure how Sully had been able to convince the organization that ran the Wallenberg Cotttage, but here you were, sitting in his study pouring over Olaf's letters as Sam did the same thing.

You had smiled at the portrait on his desk of a young woman with brown hair and the sweetest of brown eyes, clad in a dress that indicated practicality but also wealth.

The head researcher told you her name was Victoria Cassandra de Victoire, a duchess that had acted as his patron.

Well it was nice to know you were in the right place. Nicer still when you asked if he had seen anyone else come in asking to look at the letters, and he had shaken his head.

You weren't too hopeful you were ahead of Clarke and Abbie, but it was a nice thought regardless.

Sam passed a letter to you, walking over to your side of the table and leaning over your shoulder as he asked for your opinion.

You'd called a truce on your inner conflict, knowing if you were to get anything done you'd have to put whatever what could have been to the side.

Besides, the logical side of you knew he'd never have chosen you anyways.

That unexpected forehead kiss had simply been an outlier, probably just a moment of comfort for you, nothing more.

You had been expecting to find more letters between Olaf and Victoria, clues as to possible locations, but instead you found yourself mostly reading letters between Olaf and Astrid.

It appeared she had a ship of her own called the Borealis, where she acted as co-captain with a man named Charles.

"Excuse me," you asked the head researcher as he walked past. He stopped and looked at you expectantly. "Do you happen to know anything about Charles MacLean?"

"He was Olaf's right hand man, captained two of the ships in his fleet after Charles lost his wife and two children to tuberculosis. Though he later lost full control of the Borealis to the Belle of the Baltic. He was the figurehead, but she was the brains of the operation."

He searched the shelves before he retrieved a thin book, flipping through the pages before he set it down, the woman's blonde hair cropped to her chin as she sat there with a model of her ship in her hands. A man twice her age stood beside her, his calloused hand on the chair, his eyes almost daring the viewer to make a move so he could shoot them between the eyes with the pistol on his hip.

"She sent this to her mother close to Victoria's death. A peace offering of sorts after the pair did not speak for eleven years, an indication that she was safe and happy."

"Do you know why Victoria was so upset with her daughter?" You asked as you turned to face the researcher fully. "Besides the fact she ran away from her arranged marriage, of course."

The researcher pursed his lips.

"Stories differ. Some think that Astrid had ambitions to take over the empire and was going to use Olaf's fleet to do so....pull the rug out, as you Americans say..."

"Canadian," you corrected before nodding for him to continue.

"Others place the blame on Olaf who tricked her into running away to join him, and that Victoria did not want any form of association with the man who she believed had stolen her only child from her."

"And what's your theory?" Sam asked as he set down the letter in his hand.

A small smile bloomed on the man's features.

"It might be the sentimentalist in me...but I believe Astrid, or Elizabeth as she was known at the time, fell in love with Charles and decided to elope."

You looked at the pair again, smiling at the thought of Elizabeth doing what her mother never could. Getting the happy ending that Victoria had always wanted.

"She fell for a man twice her age?" Sam asked skeptically, and the researcher's eyes crinkled in amusement.

"They were equals in every manner except for social status. It would not surprise me if something had occurred between them," he declared.

The researcher checked his watch before he frowned, excusing himself for his lunch as he made you three swear to be careful with the documents.

"Do you think Astrid might have carried off the treasure once she was given control of the fleet? In order to keep it safe?" You asked Sam and Sully.

"For our sake I hope not," Sully muttered, and you laughed a little.

"Sam? Your thoughts?" You asked as he looked at one letter. He didn't respond and you smirked a little. "Hey, deaf old man, what's your opinion?"

He furrowed his brow in concentration and you stood up, trying to peer at the letter when he shoved it into Sully's hands.

"Third paragraph," Sam urged, and Sully peered at the letter before he began to read.

"I wish for us to have a truce in this conflict between us. Francis has been dead for many years now...." Sully began to read.

"Stumbled into the Thames and never emerged again," you piped in. Sam looked at you with raised eyebrows and you shrugged. "He was a drunk. Nearly ruined what remained of Victoria's empire. You know, some historians say...."

"Can I finish please?" Sully asked, caught between amusement and annoyance, and you flushed slightly before you nodded for him to continue.

"And you no longer are required to have ties to England," Sully continued, looking at you expectantly.

"I have no idea," you replied honestly. "From what I've read she kept the empire running until her sudden death from malaria that she caught from one of her explorers."

"We will be in port for a day in a fortnight before we depart for Tobermory, and I would desire your companionship on my ship for that period. Charles is particularly keen to meet you and introduce someone who is particularly interested in reviving your global ventures. We do not ask for anything more than for us to speak once again, and we will respect your wishes if you do not desire the same."

You searched the letters for anything approximating the same date, and when you found two letters spaced seven months apart you actually began to shake in excitement.

"I will forever be grateful for what you have given me, but I fear I cannot remain on the water for much longer. I am with child, and for my child's health a home on land would be much more suitable in their first year. Charles has kindly offered to take me to his home of Mull, while he will assume the duties of the Borealis in full once more. I do not write just to give you this joyous news. We are required to port in London in order to offload some of our wares, and I thought you might desire to join us in the occasion. I have invited a certain guest, and believe you may be desirous to meet her."

You practically shoved the letter into Sam's hands before you began to read from the next one.

"I am settled in Mull and to my shock, I am content. Charles has begun to base his operations from the island in order for me to continue my occupation with the company, and my daughter is the most perfect creature..." you began before you scanned the letter for any phrase or word that might indicate a location of jewels or gold.

You actually stopped breathing when you found it, unable to speak as you shoved the letter close to Sam's face and pointed to a specific paragraph.

"You have spoken of how you do not desire a reward for your services, and yet my mother is insistent," Sam read cautiously. "She has instilled in me the importance to indicate that you must board the Aurora, which will dock in London on the 24th. It will take you where it is necessary," Sam read out before he set down the letter, looking around the library for a book that might indicate its route.

The researcher came back in to see you scrambling and looked rightfully startled, though once Sully filled him in the man left the room. He returned moments later with a journal, setting it down before you and Sam on the table.

"You happen to be in luck that I'm here today and not Ingrid," he declared as he flipped through the pages. "For my ancestor was on that boat, along with his three brothers."

He opened to a crude sketch of a boat and grinned.

"My family, before they settled in Sweden, used to work as fishermen. Particularly in the Canadian province, ummm...oh yes, Newfoundland."

You looked at Sam and Sully, the former with a glint in his eyes while the latter just looked exhausted.

"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, and you chuckled a little.

You barely remembered packing up what you could and scrambling to the airport, running on pure adrenaline as you stepped onto the tarmac. You were actually feeling eager to chase this lead.

Your excitement turned to concern, however, when Sully was standing outside the plane and not within it.

"We got a problem," Sully declared as he rapidly approached, and before you could ask what it was, a certain redhead stepped out onto the tarmac.

Her hands were raised defensively, her eyes ringed with dark circles as she watched the three of you cautiously.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, his tone softer than you thought the situation called for.

"I....I think I've been on the wrong side of all this," She retorted with a self-deprecating laugh, and you noticed the bandage across the bridge of her nose as if someone had fractured it. "I want to make sure it's the right people who get what they deserve."

She pulled out a map, a certain location circled in red.

"Clarke has the exact location of the treasure. I convinced him to wait a day for his friends to check out sources, so we have some time to get there and claim it..."

"We?" Sully asked skeptically, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm not going back there. Not after what he did," she declared firmly, and you watched Sam approach her, cautiously reaching out.

His hand rested on her cheek, his thumb stroking along the bandage.

"He did this to you?" He asked, his tone low and dangerous. She only nodded, and you knew before Sam spoke exactly what he was going to say.

Didn't make it any easier to hear though.

"She's coming with us," he stated as if it was a decision that was non-negotiable, not even allowing Sully or you to speak before he took her hand, guiding her back into the airplane.

Sully gave you a look you immediately understood before he followed, and you stood on the tarmac, unsure of what to do.

"[Y/N], you coming?" Abbie called out from the airplane, Sam poking out his head as he watched you expectantly, and you hesitantly picked up your bag.

You stepped inside, being sure to close the door behind you, trying to ignore how tenderly Sam was touching Abbie's face, his calloused hands gentle as he stroked back her hair.

You couldn't tell if it was your gut or your heart telling you not to trust this. That it would be best to step off that plane right now and leave Sam to cause his own ruin.

The plane started up, rumbling underneath you, and you pulled your hood up as you leaned back against the side of the plane.

Because the truth was, part of you wanted to be part of the action for once instead of remaining on the sidelines.

And you couldn't just leave him. He was your friend, after all.

You elected not to linger on whatever might be beyond that for the time being.

Because the truth, the ugly truth of all this, was that you had done exactly what Sully had voiced his concerns about. You'd let emotions get in the way of the task at hand.

You'd fallen in love with Sam Drake.


	7. New Found Land

Though you had more than a certain distaste for this situation due to practical as well as your own selfish reasons...you had to admit that working alongside Abbie again was a definite advantage.

She didn't say much about what it had been like working alongside Clarke, and Sam didn't seem to want to ask.

You had your own suspicions as to why, and it only made your acceptance of how you felt all the more painful.

Every practical bone in your body was screaming at you that you were being ridiculous, you'd only known Sam for a few months and the most you'd seen of him in that time was through a laptop screen.

You couldn't be in love with him. Love...it implied certain things that you knew weren't true.

Such as reciprocation. Something Abbie and Sam seemed to be giving each other in droves.

It seemed like nothing had changed between them, Sam more than happy to take her back and Abbie revelling in the affection she received.

You watched him place a soft kiss on her mouth before she slipped into their motel room in Newfoundland, her voice lilting as she told him "not to be too long".

He took a long drag from his cigarette, flicking the ash and you were about to try to slip into your own room unnoticed when he glanced over at you.

His smile was practically radiant, yours weak in return as you opened the door and slipped inside.

You were certainly not looking forward to being in the room next to them, especially with such thin walls between you.

"Ohhh, I lose control," you sang under your breath. "When I hear your body move, through the walls in the next room."

You softly chuckled to yourself as you sat at the foot of the bed, changing into your PJs before you looked over the letters again.

You were going to miss these people in a certain way, their stories having become your life for the past few months.

You wondered what was going to happen after all this was over.

It was obvious Abbie might request one or two artifacts to use for....something in her dissertation. God, you couldn't even remember what it was about anymore.

Sully would probably just be glad to be finally going home after all this chaos in order to set up the next job for him and Sam.

There was a thump followed by a high pitched giggle and you felt your stomach plummet as...well, other sounds began to emerge.

Sam....you weren't sure what would happen for Sam. He'd have the treasure he always wanted with his girl at his side. He probably wouldn't want much else.

And yet you couldn't imagine him being the type to settle down contentedly though...but you hadn't pictured falling for a man twice your age either, so you supposed life was full of unexpected twists and turns.

Hell, maybe Abbie would turn him into a house-husband.

The thought made you chuckle until you heard a feminine voice begin to gasp.

You sighed, crawling into bed before you did your best to muffle the sounds, your pillow against your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Oh my God Sam, it feels so good..." you murmured mockingly as the sounds increased in pitch. "Oh please Sam, you're so much better than Clarke, holy shit..."

You waited out for the crescendo, tapping your foot against the bed in time with the gasps, trying to turn this into a game to avoid thinking about what was actually going on.

Oh my God...was he actually speaking SPANISH in there?

The crescendo came thankfully after that, a masculine groan sending a jolt through you as you suddenly pictured EXACTLY what was going on in that motel room.

God, were you seriously turned on right now? From just that one sound? How disgusting were you?

You rolled over and did your best to sleep, explorers both modern and non filling your dreams.

If one or two happened to involve Sam on his back...panting as your hands traced up and down his chest...the two of you praying to every damn deity...well. You couldn't always control your thoughts, could you?

Didn't mean it would make it any easier to look at Sam in the morning.

\----------------------////-----------------------

You huddled into your scarf, hands in your jacket pockets as Abbie tapped her foot impatiently.

Clarke's people had been able to triangulate where the treasure was likely to be located, a small chapel off the coast of the province.

What they had not seemed to discover, however, was that the chapel had been closed for years. A combination of being too expensive to upkeep and a lack of a parish to serve, according to the locals.

Sam was currently on his knees, a lock-picking kit from Sully's supplies beside him as he was fiddling around.

"I don't get why we can't just smash a window and go in," Abbie declared as she crossed her arms.

"You don't think I can do it?" Sam teased her, and she pursed her lips.

"If we waste any more time they're going to...." she began as she scanned the dirt road for any other vehicles.

There was an audible click before Sam stood up triumphantly. He pushed the door open with his arm, look down at her with a smirk.

"After you," he declared, bowing slightly as he brandished the kit out in his other hand with a flourish.

"I'll stay out here, warn you when Clarke's men arrive," Sully declared as he pulled out his cell phone.

The three of you nodded before slipping inside, Sam slipping the kit into his pocket and you making sure to close the door behind you.

The inside of the chapel was surprisingly simplistic, pews of dark wood covered in cobwebs and dust, light barely shining through the dirtied stained glass.

You swore you saw Sam making the sign of the Cross, causing you to smile a little.

"Victoria was born Catholic but forced to marry Protestant," Abbie murmured as you walked down the aisle. "Hence why no one would suspect her of being a patron of a Catholic church."

"How long was she patron for?" You asked with interest.

"Most of her life, based on what Clarke's researchers found out. She wanted to be buried here, actually," Abbie responded. "But she died in Liverpool, so they just shipped her back to London and buried her beside her husband."

Olaf and Victoria, separated even in death. There was something quite tragic about that in your eyes.

"So how did she get the treasure here?" Sam asked, and Abbie shrugged.

"Probably bribed one of her explorers to do it for her. Must have paid him quite a bit to not touch it or mention it to anyone."

Abbie looked at the altar, a small smile appearing on her features.

She went behind the altar, motioning for Sam to help her. He followed dutifully, like an eager puppy and you felt your stomach twist at the devotion in his features.

The pair of them shoved the altar forward, the wood scraping against the stone harshly.

"You think we're gonna go to hell for this?" Sam asked causing Abbie to snort gently.

"Since when do you care about the fate of your soul Samuel?" She retorted as she disappeared behind the altar.

You approached the pair, walking around the altar to see her running her fingers over the cracks in the stone.

Sam joined her in her search, you electing to watch the door for Clarke's men.

"It's supposed to be here," she muttered, brushing away the dust and grime with the sleeve of her sweater with a sort of desperation that you couldn't help but mirror.

You weren't sure you wanted to stick around to see what Clarke's men might do to you. Or Clarke, if Abbie's injuries were any indication.

Though you had to admit....you felt a tad uneasy about the bruising on her face, and not for the typical reasons.

You'd barely spoken to Clarke before all this, most of what you knew about him based on the rumours that swirled around the History, Classics and Archaeology department.

But he didn't strike you as the type to resort to physical violence. Verbal barbs he could dole out in droves, but not the type of injuries that left physical marks.

Meaning he was either desperate....or Abbie was lying about something.

You paced the floor as you waited for Abbie and Sam to open the door when your foot pressed down on a loose stone.

There was an audible creak behind you, Abbie and Sam scrambling back as a pair of doors in the floor seemed to open on their own.

Abbie looked at you with an unreadable expression before she descended, Sam grinning as you approached.

"Good to know you're useful for more than tech support," he declared.

"Is that what I was? Just your 'tech support'?" You retorted as you followed Abbie, teasing him a little.

His chuckle was warm as he followed you, the three of you cautiously descending into the bowels of the chapel.

"So where is this treasure supposed to be located?" You asked as you stepped into a damp corridor, pulling your jacket more tightly around you in the sudden chill.

"Shouldn't be too far. I can't imagine that..." Abbie began, holding her cell phone in front of her to guide your path before she suddenly halted. "Shit."

You were about to ask what the problem was when she held the phone up, exposing a thick stone wall in the middle of your path.

"Well that's a setback," Sam declared.

"Thanks Captain Obvious," you declared as you looked at the stone.

"You're welcome Sergeant Sarcasm," he murmured and you couldn't help but smile a little.

"Maybe it's like the door, we need to find a switch...." Abbie declared, running her hands over the wall before she pressed down on a loose stone. "Jesus FUCK!"

She yanked back her hand, the centre now beginning to redden as blood dripped from the small hole.

"Oh, we're definitely going to hell," you murmured in response to her exclamation.

"There doesn't appear to be any other loose stones," Sam declared  as you held up your own phone.

Abbie was binding up her hand with part of her shirt that she had ripped off, looking livid.

"And there aren't any other corridors," you murmured as you looked around. "So how the hell did..."

There was a sharp bang above you of the front doors of the church being slammed open, your heart now pounding.

"We've got to get in there before Clarke does," Abbie declared, looking over the stones again.

You went over the stones, being careful to avoid the spike as you wracked your brain for where a latch might be hidden.

Victoria had wanted Olaf to find it, so it couldn't be too difficult to solve.

You held your phone to the wall before you spotted a small hole the width of a stem.

Wait a minute....

"Sam, I need the lock picking kit," you declared. He looked surprised before he nodded.

Your hands brushed for a moment as he handed you the kit, and you did your best to ignore the lovely jolt that went up your arm as you pulled out one of the tools.

You stabbed it into the hole, hearing an audible click before a door materialized and swung open.

"The first time Olaf came back to England to drop off his wares he gave Victoria a flower from India. In return she gave him a metal copy of it, to wear in his lapel," you explained as you handed Sam back the rest of the kit. "You see him wearing it in every portrait."

Sam looked impressed while Abbie didn't appear to acknowledge it, already slipping through the corridor.

"Not just a pretty face," Sam complimented, and you tried to fight down the heat rapidly rising in your cheeks as he walked ahead of you.

"I just do my research," you retorted quietly as you slipped the tool into your pocket.

Who knew, it might unlock something else.

You followed the pair until Abbie stopped once more.

It appeared to be a wooden floor, some of the planks starting to fall apart and Abbie looked back at you two.

"So, who wants to go first?" She asked, and your stomach plummeted.

"Hold on," Sam declared as he stepped ahead of you two.

He picked up a loose stone, kneeling down before he rolled it across the floor.

It hit the boards with solid thunks and plinks, landing safely on the other side.

"Seems stable," Sam declared as he stood up, and before you could ask who was going to go first you heard a gun click behind you.

Your stomach twisted as you held your hands up, your heart thudding in your ears.


	8. That's My Girl

There were a few seconds of tense silence, Sam looking more perturbed than anything as he raised his hands.

"Back up. Slowly," you heard Clarke declare, and you nodded as you complied.

Sam turned around, a certain anger simmering under the surface as Abbie looked at him defiantly from her current position, and you wished you could be as brave as them.

"You too Samuel," Clarke continued, Sam refusing to move. "I mean it. Move."

Sam glared at him defiantly as you risked turning around, and what you saw made your mouth fall open.

Clarke's hand was tightly bandaged, his nose in worse condition than Abbie's, and when he spoke you saw one of his teeth had been knocked out.

Clearly Abbie had put up a fight before she ran.

"Samuel, this is between me and Abigail. Move," he snarled, and Sam stood in front of her protectively.

"You're not taking her back," Sam growled in response, your back now pressed against the wall as you watched the situation unfold.

Clarke didn't appear to have any one else with him, putting you in the advantage in terms of numbers.

You felt the tool from the lock picking kit still in your pocket, watching Clarke approach the pair.

"Why the hell would I want her back?" Clarke retorted as you slipped it out, your heart thudding in your ears.

Sam spotted the gleam of silver in the dim light, nodding imperceptibly to you.

You slipped towards Clarke, and before you could doubt yourself you aimed for his shoulder.

He turned just in time for the tool to sink into his arm, looking surprised as Sam barrelled into him.

The pair of them struggled on the floor, and you looked over to Abbie who appeared to roll her eyes.

"Screw this," she muttered before she stepped on the wooden floor, a sharp cream echoing through the cavern before she plummeted.

Her screams bounced around you as Clarke and Sam broke apart, now scrambling towards the floor as you stood there in shock.

"Abbie?" Sam called out as he looked over the lip of the stone, no response greeting him. "ABBIE?"

"Are you FUCKING SHITTING ME?!?"  
She screeched, and you jumped in shock.

"Do yourself a favour. Leave her there," Clarke declared as he slipped his gun into its holster, yanking out the tool and tossing it to the ground. "Trust me."

"What? Because she's not useful to you anymore?" Sam barked at Clarke.

"That lovely young woman," he responded, gesturing into the abyss. "Is the reason I'm losing my tenure."

Sam looked as confused as you felt, and Clarke continued as you picked up the tool and slipped it back into your pocket.

"They rejected her dissertation," he explained. "She isn't supposed to be even affiliated with the university. But she thought that this treasure might convince them to give her a professorship, regardless of the lack of degree."

He shook his head and chuckled mirthlessly.

"And because I loved her, I let her do it. Use my resources, whatever it took. Because at least she was content. And hey, she might be right."

Clarke sighed as he met Sam's eyes.

"But the university didn't agree. When I told her that they wouldn't give her it, that she still needed a PhD....well, she snapped. Started throwing things around."

He pointed to his features.

"When I tried to hold her down she pinned me down instead, taking out all her frustrations on me. Said it was my fault they weren't willing to take her back. I...I intended to shove her off but I hit her nose instead," he continued, holding up his bandaged hand and wiggling the fingers. "Used my horror to stab me in the hand with a letter opener. She would have gone for my throat if my friend hadn't shoved her off me."

You tried not to picture what he was describing, and yet the images kept assaulting you.

"Kicker was when she 'informed' the department heads that I had been sexually harassing her for a year."

"So you were going to kill her for it?" You murmured in horror.

"What? No no no, I was going to scare her enough into coming back so I could have her arrested," he replied as he took out the gun. "This is just filled with blanks."

To prove his point he shot at the floor, the sound echoing but no bullet hole left behind.

He looked over the lip of the stone into the abyss.

"Though I suppose I could live with her rotting down there," he declared as he stood up fully.

"Why the hell should we believe you?" Sam snarled, and Clarke shrugged.

"What do I have to gain?" He murmured. "My reputation is ruined now, no amount of treasure is going to change that. Besides, I have enough from my other expeditions to keep me content."

He shrugged.

"I was only in it for Abigail."

You couldn't help but pity him in that moment, his expression caught between anger and a certain kind of sadness you recognized as your own whenever you looked at Sam.

"What do we have to do to cross?" You asked Clarke quietly, crossing your arms.

"We're gonna believe him?" Sam asked you incredulously. "After everything?"

"What's your plan?" You asked Clarke, and he glanced into the abyss.

"Try and fish her out, haul her back to the proper authorities," he declared.

"You don't want to see the treasure?" You asked in surprise.

"Like I said, only in it for the girl. And now that I have her," he declared as he kneeled down. "Never going to let her go."

Shit. You never thought those words could sound so sinister.

You looked at Sam, who looked cautious of the present situation, coupled with a kind of weariness that made you think he might just decide to go home.

"Abbie?" Sam called out. "He's telling the truth, isn't he?"

There was no response at first, and you thought she might have passed out when she spoke.

"You have nothing to lose, Sam. I don't have that luxury. If I don't get that professorship, than all these years, all that effort would be wasted. Look, if you help me out I'll give you...25% of the credit."

Clarke scoffed and you shook your head.

"Thirty-five?" She offered, and Sam didn't speak. "I'm not going above 40."

"You should go. She's only going to grovel further to get what she wants, and trust me, no one wants to see that," Clarke declared.

Sam looked pained as he stared into the abyss below, closing his eyes before he nodded.

"So how do we cross then?" Sam asked so quietly that you nearly didn't hear it.

"Well, our dear Victoria was a sentimentalist, and Olaf was the same. Why not make one of the puzzles a tribute to their first dance?"

"Dance?" You and Sam asked at the same time, causing Clarke to grin.

"Don't worry, I'll guide you through the steps. Luckily for us, Olaf couldn't dance," Clarke declared as he pulled out a piece of paper. "So Victoria sent him the steps for it when he was back in England."

"You sure it's supposed to be done by two people?" You asked hesitantly, Clarke nodding confidently.

"If my theory's correct," Clarke retorted cryptically.

"If you let us fall I swear...." Sam began sharply.

"Then I'll get you two out first," Clarke retorted. "Now, assume first position, and Listen. To. Me."

You met Sam's eyes worriedly.

"Not like we have much choice, do we?" Sam declared with as much trepidation as you felt.

He clasped your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze before Clarke positioned you two.

You two hesitantly went through the steps, Clarke's barking echoing around you as you performed the dance.

It was clumsily and awkward, and you couldn't help but start to giggle, Sam appearing to try to suppress his laughter.

"Focus!" Clarke yelled, and you took a deep breath, moving forward with Sam as the wood faintly creaked under your feet.

"I hope they have stairs coming back up because I'm not sure I can do this again," you whispered, causing Sam to smile softly.

"You seem to be doing fine," Sam replied, the two of you switching places as per Clarke's orders. "You know, this could almost be romantic if we didn't have someone screaming at us."

"Also if you had the right partner," you retorted gently as you moved.

"Who says I don't?" Sam replied, the two of you moving in sync. "I think we make a pretty good team, actually."

"You won't say that when I make us plummet," you countered.

"Ehh, I think I could catch you," Sam retorted with a shrug and a charming grin.

"Sam, I'm...I'm sorry. About you and Abbie," you murmured, and his smile fell away.

"I don't think there was much there to be sorry about," Sam replied, glancing back.

You faltered, stepping on the wrong section causing it to splinter and immediately crumble.

You felt Sam's hands fumble before he caught you, pulling you close enough that you were surrounded by the scent of sweat and cigarettes.

You never thought you'd find that combination devastatingly attractive, but hey.

"What did I SAY?" Clarke barked out in frustration.

You didn't realize till Sam wrapped his arms around you tighter that you were shaking a bit, and you laughed at yourself.

"Told ya I could catch ya," he murmured, and you laughed nervously.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to test that theory again if you don't mind," you replied.

You shakily released him, looking back at Clarke.

"Just a few more steps and you're there," he called out, and you took a deep breath.

Okay. Okay you could do this. You were fine, sure the ground seemed to be shaking but...

The ground was shaking.

You looked at Sam fearfully before a sharp series of cracks went through the air.

"Screw it, RUN!" you heard Sam yell dimly, and you hesitated as the floor buckled under you.

Your heart pounded, your breathing stopped and you leapt at the exact moment something slammed into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you collided with stone, though you had felt no plummet.

You opened your eyes cautiously, registering darkness as you breathed in the stench of cigarettes.

Sam pulled away, looking down at you in concern, his sweater and exposed skin pebbled with stones and bits of dirt before he broke out into a relieved grin.

"Guess you should've stayed home with your computer," he declared, one of his hands reaching up and stroking your hair out of your eyes. "You alright?"

Any words you might have said caught in your throat, lodging there as your hands rested against his chest and your heart pounded sharply.

All you could do was nod as he sat up, offering his hand to you which you took gratefully.

He helped you to your feet, and you practically fell into him as the tremors from the shock rolled through you.

"Abigail? Abigail?" Clarke called out, her response a series of deep coughs as the dust settled in the cavern.

"Is she alright?" Sam asked with some concern as he still held you, and you extracted yourself as you were once again reminded who his heart still belonged to.

"Oh, she's fine, she only tried to kick out the posts keeping the floor up," Clarke retorted bitterly. "I'll handle it, you two keep going."

You glanced at what once had been the floor and then back at Clarke.

"Not like we have much of a choice," Sam retorted for the pair of you.

You stood there, watching as Clarke knelt down and peered down the ledge, his features twisted sharply.

"After that, I REALLY hope there's some at the end of all this," you murmured, and Sam sighed as he looked where Abbie might be.

"Me too kid," he muttered before he walked ahead of you.

You lingered, watching Clarke for a few moments.

"Clarke?" You called out. He looked up at you and nodded curtly. "What was your theory?"

"That Victoria was always meant to come here with Olaf," Abbie called out hoarsely. "Guess you proved it right didn't you?"

You tensed at the bitterness.

You went to walk away when she continued.

"You don't deserve it, you know. You...you didn't do anything except hide behind your laptop," she snarled.

You felt Sam grab your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly before he nodded with his head for you to follow him.

You took a final glance back at Clarke and Abbie, the former appearing tensed for a fight.

Despite your curiosity as to how that match-up would turn out, you kept walking.

You and Sam walked in silence for a few moments, your hands slipping into your pockets.

"Thanks for saving me back there," you declared with a smile, and his mouth quirked up in a smile in response.

"We gotta look out for our friends, right?" He declared as he met your eyes, and you felt your smile falter.

"Right," you replied half-heartedly, and you expected him to notice.

He had other things on his mind apparently, continuing to walk ahead. When he saw you weren't following he stopped.

"Well? You wanna see this treasure or what?"

"Eh, why not?" You replied with a shrug and a grin, making him smile. "Might as well. I'm here after all."

"That's my girl," he declared before he kept walking, and you hated how it made a pleasant warmness settle in your frame.

"Yep," you murmured to no one in particular, the warmness beginning to fade along with your smile. "That's your girl."


	9. Goodbyes

The rest of the journey towards the treasure had been quite uneventful so far, the further you travelled the more the doors and puzzles had rotted away.

"Feels a little anti-climatic," Sam commented with a small chuckle.

"What, you would prefer more booby-traps and explosions?" You retorted as you glanced over at him.

"Nah, I'm good," he countered with another laugh, a quick exhale of breath more than anything genuine. "It just...feels too easy, y'know?"

You couldn't help but look over at him, your eyebrows raised.

"You do know we were nearly killed by a collapsing floor, right?" You declared, and his lips quirked up.

The flashlight on your cell phone blinked out, and you swore as you were plunged into darkness.

You were about to ask Sam if by some stroke of luck he had a flashlight or something when something clicked, and a bright flame emerged.

He held the lighter in front of you two, glancing around.

"Let's hope we're not too far," he murmured as he walked ahead.

You followed closely, the corridor suddenly feeling a lot more claustrophobic in the surrounding darkness.

The lighter flicked off before Sam nudged something open with his shoulder, the door creaking harshly before he opened his lighter again.

"What, no puzzles about the eternity of your love?" You murmured, and Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, it's a bit much isn't it?" He retorted as he moved the lighter around, checking the walls before you continued to walk.

You wondered how long Victoria must have planned this, if Clarke was right and she always intended to come here with Olaf.

She had died fairly young at 55, her empire already starting to crumble by the time she drowned. Olaf, according to the historical record, had to live twenty years without her before the water took him too.

You couldn't even begin to fathom the pain he must have felt, knowing in a single moment he would never see the love of his life again.

"I can't imagine someone loving me that much," you declared quietly, and Sam hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, well, maybe that's a good thing for the both of us," Sam retorted, and you knew he was thinking of the woman you had been forced to leave behind.

"Less distractions," you declared, and Sam nodded.

"Don't tell Victor I said this, but he's right. Love has no place in this line of work," Sam retorted.

"Sometimes you can't help it though," you countered. "Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes you fall in love with someone you never thought would matter."

Sam actually grinned.

"My little researcher is in love," he declared. "Huh. Feel like a proud parent or something. So, who's the lucky guy?"

Christ, you weren't actually going to do this NOW, were you?

"Who says I'm in love?" You countered. "Maybe I've just read about it enough to get a general idea."

"Who's the lucky guy?" Sam cooed. "Or girl. I don't judge."

You shook your head, and Sam nudged your shoulder playfully.

"C'mon, humour an old man who's love life is in shambles," Sam declared.

"I'm not in love with anyone Sam," you retorted, and he just laughed.

"Fine. Don't tell me," he declared. "Just don't forget Uncle Sam when you send out the wedding invitations."

You shook your head in frustration, following Sam in what was feeling like an endless corridor.

You knew it would be stupid to tell him now, especially right after Abbie, and perhaps that was why you held back.

"You could at least tell me their name," Sam declared, and you knew in that moment you might never get as good an opportunity.

So you were going to tell him. Shit. Well, things couldn't get much worse than your former boss betraying you and breaking the heart of the man you adored right?

"It's..." you began quietly before you were jerked to a halt by the appearance of a simplistic wooden door.

There were no other corridors to go into, and you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that this was it.

Sam put his lighter away, looking at you with a kind of giddy excitement that made you smile before he stepped aside.

"I think you should open it," he declared.

You looked at him in surprise, causing him to bite his lower lip and grin.

"C'mon. You think I would have found any of this without ya? Only fitting you get first pick."

You stood there and shook your head, crossing your arms for good measure.

"It matters more to you. You should open it," you murmured, and you let out a surprised sound when Sam grabbed your hand and tugged you forward.

He placed your hands against the wood of the door, his hands completely engulfing yours before he stepped away. He placed his own beside yours, giving you a small nod.

"Together then. To be fair."

You met his eyes before you looked back at the door, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Together," you murmured as you both shoved it open.

\-----------------------////------------------------

You had never expected to be given a neat conclusion to the saga of Victoria Cassandra de Victoire and Olaf Wallenberg....and yet there you were, pouring over immaculately preserved journals in a room underneath a simple chapel in Newfoundland.

This....this was a historical goldmine. A perfect recording of daily life in the eighteenth century, shipping charters and hand-drawn routes on maps wedged between the pages.

"My dearest Bess," you read as Sam used the lock picking kit to unlock the chests placed neatly in the corner of the room. "I regret that we could not tell you the truth, but I was fearful if even those closest to me knew that the information would spread."

Sam was like a giddy schoolboy, running his hands over Norse gold and priceless jewels, actually GIGGLING.

"You already know that I intended to send Olaf to claim his own piece of treasure for his services. What I did not tell you, or him, was that my empire was finished. Once he took his share, what I had built over the past three decades, what I had accumulated would be gone."

You looked at the chests of gleaming gold and sparkling jewels, of expensive bolts of woven fabric and jars of spices somehow still intact.

"Your step-father was a foolish man who wasted our fortune on the drink and the card table, but your true father was not. He knew the significance...and he granted me another option."

Sam pushed aside a table to reveal a lever of sorts, motioning for you to help him.

You placed the journal onto the ground gingerly before you approached.

The pair of you shoved the lever up, dust spraying out from a nearby wall before you saw a crack of light emerge.

You barely hesitated to sprint over, shoving the door open to reveal a set of stairs leading up and out of the cavern.

"Hey kid?" Sam declared as he walked up to you, and you turned around to face him. "You doin' alright?"

He was teasing you, his grin radiant, pure and unadulterated joy.

"Nah, I'm awful. Just, y'know, found enough gold and jewels to never have to work again and enough journals to set up my own museum," you practically squealed, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

When he didn't respond at first you began to pull away, an apology already on your lips when he hugged you back tighter.

"We actually did it kid," he murmured as he released you. "Huh. Can't wait for Nathan to hear about this."

His eyes widened.

"Oh shit. I need to call Nathan," he declared before he scrambled up the stairs, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you went back to the journal.

You picked it up, tucking it under your arm before you ascended.

The day had warmed up a little since you trekked down into the bowels of the chapel, and you plunked yourself down in the middle of the grass near the staircase.

"Our intention had always been to go to where I had placed the treasure, use it to make a comfortable life for ourselves. But instead our ship was moored on a nearby isle, luckily populated by settlers more than willing to let us into their homes and lives until we could make our own."

You glanced over to see Sam talking excitedly on Sully's phone, one hand going through his hair as he beamed.

"Olaf became a fisherman and I a mere fisherman's wife, and we forced ourselves to forget the lives we had left behind."

In the distance you watched a dirtied Abbie be loaded into a car by Clarke, who slammed the door shut before he approached Sully and Sam. The former looked skeptical, but Sam clapped Clarke on the shoulder and appeared to speak with him amicably.

"But it is time to return home. Olaf has died, likely to his horror safely in his bed rather than on the sea, and it has fallen to me to make the final arrangements. I will sail for Småland in a few days time, and then we will meet again. I simply cannot wait to meet the daughter you cherish as much as I do my own. All my love, your mama, Victoria."

There was a certain tragedy knowing what was to befell Victoria, but surprisingly you were not upset.

She had been given twenty years with the man she had adored, more than she had likely ever expected to have.

You glanced over at Sam, looking surprised as Clarke wrote something down on a slip of paper and handed it to him before the latter walked off.

Sam chuckled to himself, slipping the paper into his pocket, and you knew what you had to do.

You stood up, cautiously walking over to the pair, overhearing Sully speaking of another job he'd heard about somewhere in the Middle East.

"So I guess you can officially retire now eh Sully?" You declared, the man chuckling.

"Have to admit, you did a good job. Haven't seen a haul this decent since, well...ever, actually."

Sully looked at Sam and smirked.

"Loved your brother, but God help me if he couldn't seem to hang onto whatever treasure we found."

Sam chuckled at that, a cigarette between his lips and you crossed your arms as you met his eyes.

"Sam, uhh....can I talk to you for a second?"

He took a long drag before he expelled the smoke, nodding before he passed the slip of paper from his pocket to Sully.

"Thought you might like to see this," Sam declared before he nodded to you to lead the way.

Your steps were a tad shaky as you found a secluded section away from the chapel and Sully.

You could do this. All you had to say was that you were in love with him and that you already knew he wouldn't reciprocate. Simple, right?

You turned to face Sam, forcing yourself to meet his eyes and you must have looked terrified because he frowned in concern.

"Everything alright kid?" He asked before he took another drag from his cigarette.

"Sam, I-I know you said love doesn't have a place in this line of work..." you began shakily. "But...."

You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

"I-I care about you. More than should be possible considering we barely know each other."

"So what do you want exactly?" Sam asked, his shoulders tensing.

"Nothing. Sam, I...." you continued gently.

Sam's shoulders relaxed and he grinned.

"Good. Was getting scared for a minute you were gonna try and cut me out of my share or something," Sam declared.

"Wait, what?" You asked in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, you know, after Abbie..." he retorted, flicking the ashes of his cigarette in the direction of the chapel.

"I'd never do that to you, you know that," you declared more sharply than you intended, Sam's eyebrows raising in surprise.

"You sure you're alright?" Sam asked as his eyebrows furrowed.

The words died in your throat as you met his eyes, and you had to close yours in order to say that phrase.

I'm in love with you.

I think I love you Sam Drake.

So, as it turns out, I love you.

"I...I..." you began before you took another deep breath. "I think I want what Olaf and Victoria had."

Sam chuckled at that.

"What, being separated from your soulmate for a decade or so before you two would find each other again?" Sam asked with a smirk.

"No. I meant...shit, I meant..." you began.

Christ, why the hell was this so difficult for you?

"You want to be in love utterly and completely," Sam declared, a bit softer than before. "So...what? You're looking for love advice?"

He chuckled again.

"Because I am definitely not the best person to go to for that kind of info," he confessed. "I mean, if you want my awful advice then I'll be happy to provide it."

"How would you want someone to tell you that they're in love with you?" You somehow declared.

It...wasn't what you had intended to say...but at least it was out there now.

"How would I..." Sam began in surprise.

You're smart, Sam. Take the bait.

The realization dawned on his features, taking a deep lungful from his cigarette before he crushed it under his shoe.

"So you want to take the journals and...I think we can agree on one or two chests, right?"

You frowned in confusion.

"Nathan will be here in a day or two and we'll need to divide it up eventually. So, whadda you want?" Sam continued.

"Sam, I just...I told you..." you began.

"I mean, maybe I should give my brother one for helping to haul all this up...." Sam continued as if he didn't hear you.

"Sam...." you began.

"So what do you want from the treasure haul?" Sam asked as he finally looked at you, his expression unreadable as he pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

You had expected a polite decline, maybe even encouragement to find someone else...but he seemed to be ignoring what you said entirely.

"The journals," you murmured. "Two chests seems like enough."

He nodded to himself.

"How long?" He asked as he glanced back at Sully.

"How long what?" You asked gently.

"Since you've been in love with me?"

He made it sound almost trivial, as if you were discussing the weather.

"I...I wish I knew," you murmured. "I think for....awhile at least."

Sam had grown silent, birds chirping in the distance and cars speeding along the road nearby.

"Well," Sam finally spoke, and you braced yourself for the worst. "Didn't think you had such awful taste."

"You're not that bad," you replied with a weak chuckle.

He glanced you over, and it felt like for the first time that he actually was looking at you.

"I'm...I'm not sure what you want me to say kid," he declared.

"You love me too?" You replied with a weak chuckle.

He didn't join in on your laughter.

"I...I know I'm not what you want," you murmured. "But what you wanted is going off to be dealt with by a desperate prof. So maybe you don't know what's best for you eh?"

You were joking with him, doing anything to get a glimmer of a smile.

You were greeted with silence instead, just the steady inhale and exhale as he smoked and looked ahead.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I know you adored her."

He exhaled the smoke.

"Still do," he replied simply before he chuckled. "You know, I did the exact same thing she did, back when I was looking for Avery's treasure."

He inhaled from his cigarette.

"Turned my back on those I was helping. Got desperate, did things just as stupid as she's done," Sam continued.

He looked over at the chapel.

"She was right, you know. I don't have much to lose. She did."

"You want to go after her?" You asked with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm in love, I'm not stupid," Sam retorted with a grin. "Lucky for the both of us love can fade, right?"

You smiled weakly.

"Yeah," you replied simply, crossing your arms. "So I guess that means you're not about to declare you're hopelessly in love with me too?"

"Afraid not," he replied with a small smile. "Sorry kid."

He took a deep inhale from his cigarette.

"So, where you thinking of going after all this?" He asked.

"So that's it," you retorted as you met his eyes. "End of discussion. No explanation?"

"Do you really want to know that?"  
He asked quietly, and when you nodded he sighed. "I don't have one. It's just a...y'know, gut instinct thing. You either know you do..."

"Or you don't," you replied, and you expected pain to crash through you. Instead, all you got was this numbness that made you unable to look at him.

You felt his eyes on you, and he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You felt the tears prick behind your eyes, your breath starting to become shallow and you felt him pull you close.

He didn't say a word, and neither did you, the pair of you knowing that nothing you could say in that moment would change anything.

You desperately wished you could take it all back in that moment.

Because it wasn't worth it. Him knowing and utterly rejecting you did not make any of this worth it.

You somehow held it together until you got back to the motel room, finally falling apart and sobbing angrily into your pillow.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you desperately hoped Sam would knock and say he made a mistake.

But he didn't.

And you couldn't blame him for it.

Because you couldn't make him love you, just as he couldn't help loving Abbie.

Sully was right.

Love had no damn place in this business.

\---------------------///----------------------------

You barely spoke to Sam in the following days, watching his brother and him work to carry up everything from under the chapel.

You briefly spoke with Nathan's wife, a woman your height with kind eyes and stories of her own adventures with a Drake brother.

She had gotten the happy ending though.

You were given the journals and the two chests as promised, Sam helping you load them into Nathan's truck, an awkwardness hanging between you.

Nate was going to take you back to the airport so you could go home to Toronto, and then you would be on your own again.

You'd already said your goodbyes to Sully, a brief hug and a promise to keep in touch you knew you wouldn't keep.

You figured you'd never see anything like this again, and you were kind of glad.

You actually wanted to go back to a semblance of a normal life.

You glanced over at Sam who was talking with his brother animatedly.

Hell, maybe you'd find someone who would actually love you back.

You slipped in the headphones for your iPod, barely listening to the music that played as you looked out the opposite window at the waves below lapping against the shore.

No one could figure out how the journal had ended up in the cavern along with everything else, though Nathan made a novel effort guessing Victoria's ghost.

For some reason you suspected he was only half-joking.

Someone tapped on the window of the truck and you jumped, whipping your head to see Sam standing there with his hands in his pockets.

You opened the door, sliding over awkwardly when Sam proceeded to climb into the backseat.

You watched him cautiously and he let out a small sigh.

"Well I guess this is goodbye, isn't it?" He murmured, and you only nodded as you slipped out your earphones.

"Suppose it is," you murmured, his arm brushing against yours in the close quarters.

"Y'know, you never told me what you were going to do with the treasure," he murmured with a small smile.

"Oh, buy some male strippers, have a money bath, the usual," you retorted, causing him to chuckle. "You?"

"About the same," he replied, clasping your hand and squeezing it tightly. "Look. I know you probably don't wanna hear this, but I'm gonna miss you kid."

You leaned into his arm, your hand still in his.

"You too Sam," you replied quietly, letting out a small sigh.

"You were...surprisingly competent at all this," Sam retorted, and you laughed quietly.

"Gee, thanks," you replied as you rolled your eyes, his hand releasing yours before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You leaned into the embrace instinctively, and Sam didn't seem to move away.

"I'm...I'm donating some of the journals to a museum in Nova Scotia and the rest I'm putting up for auction," you murmured. "Haven't decided what to do with the jewels and gold yet."

"Seems sensible," Sam replied with a chuckle. "Gonna sell everything to the highest bidder, maybe take a vacation with the money."

He looked down at you and met your eyes with a grin.

"Though I'm definitely keeping one or two things," he declared with a wink.

You laughed at that, his arm still around you, and you felt a pain that was growing too familiar when he was around.

"I-I'll see you around, Sam," you murmured as you extracted yourself from his grasp. "Take care of yourself."

He leaned over and pressed his lips against your forehead, his hand on the back of your head, almost appearing to linger before he sat back.

You weren't sure what compelled you to do it.

Maybe it was the knowledge you would never see him again, that this chapter of your life was coming to a close.

"You too k-" he began.

Whatever it was, you rested your hand on his shoulder, pulled yourself up and pressed your mouth to his.

You savoured the taste of nicotine on his lips before you released him, and it was the first time you saw Sam Drake look genuinely at a loss for words.

"I mean it," you murmured, and he began to shake his head.

One of the last images you got of him before you left Newfoundland was him opening the door, still shaking his head as he began to laugh to himself.

He looked almost proud as he waved goodbye.


	10. Epilogue: Anton Antiquities

You awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, sipping your ginger ale from a cheap plastic glass as you watched the other donors mingle.

Most of them appeared to be edging towards their twilight years, their words as lavish as their gowns, sophistication in every movement. Clearly old money, snippets of conversations that drifted over mentioning entitled sons and daughters that would never have to work a day in their lives.

You were the clear outlier, someone trying to finagle your way into their special club, and you found yourself wishing Sam was here. Not that he would blend in any better than you appeared to be doing.

You chuckled at the thought of him showing up in a worn sweater and filthy jeans, hair eschew and boots trekking mud onto the pristine floor.

"Thought I recognized the latest donor," you heard a familiar voice murmur, and you looked up from your glass in surprise.

Clarke Baker looked down at you with a polite grin, and you expected to tense at his sudden appearance.

But you were surprisingly grateful he was here, and you gave him a genuine smile.

"Yeah, well, what use would a bunch of journals be gathering dust in my basement?" You retorted with a shrug, causing him to laugh a little. "You're a donor too?"

"That would be my cousin Marie," he replied as he gestured over to a woman, her black hair placed in an intricate braid and her dress appearing to cost your entire dissertation. "She never seems to find a date that doesn't get intimidated....so I usually get dragged along."

You took a sip of your ginger ale before you nodded.

"Surprised you didn't try to bring Samuel," he continued. "Might have helped him get some future clients."

You didn't look as Clarke as you spoke, watching an older couple speak disdainfully with a waitress instead.

"We...we haven't been in touch, actually," you replied, finishing off your glass. You went to pick up another one when Clarke held up his hand, motioning a waiter over.

"Ginger ale and a whisky please," he declared, the waiter looking exhausted but still nodding dutifully. You made a mental note to leave him a tip if possible.

"Ah, because of him and Abigail?" He retorted knowingly, and your eyes widened as you looked at him in shock. "Oh. You didn't know."

The waiter came back with the drinks and you left a five dollar bill on the tray as you gave the waiter a small smile. He looked pleasantly surprised before he placed it in his pocket, walking off with a small grin on his face.

Clarke took a long gulp from his whiskey before he cleared his throat.

"So, as it turns out, our friend Abigail Victor, though being guilty of having no loyalties except to herself, technically did not do anything illegal," Clarke declared, and you glanced down at his still-bandaged hand.

Clarke swirled the amber liquid in his glass before he smirked.

"She happened to run into Samuel a week after her release. Hashed it all out, came to an understanding, blah blah blah," Clarke continued before he downed the rest of the liquid, setting the glass down on a nearby table. "And they used the money from Sam's share to take a little trip together to Brazil. Apparently there was some long lost treasure in the Incan ruins, or something like that."

Chapped lips against your own, his mouth tasting like cigarettes as your hand carded itself through the ends of dirtied hair, lingering for a few moments before you released him. Wondering if you had imagined him beginning to kiss you back when you withdrew.

It had only been a few seconds, sweet and chaste, and yet it had haunted you for these last two months. Constantly debating with yourself if it had been the right decision.

Apparently it had not lingered in Sam's mind as much as it had in yours.

"Too busy chasing down treasure to keep in contact with old friends, eh?" Clarke murmured, and you nodded as you heaved out a sigh.

You watched Clarke's cousin mingle with people in the crowd, looking effortless in this environment and you envied her.

"So, what have you been doing besides donating to various museums?" Clarke asked with interest.

"Using the money to travel a bit. See Sweden, England and all the other countries involved in that goose chase at my own pace," you replied with a laugh. "You?"

"Well, with my limitless funds I have been working with my cousin at her firm," Clarke retorted. "She needs historical consultants, usually likes to hire grad students to give them the opportunity. I'm merely filling a spot until she can hire someone."

He picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip.

"May have added your name to the list of possible candidates," he declared. "Seemed only fair after I screwed you over during the Hunt for Victoire."

You looked at him in surprise and he shrugged.

"Is it so hard to believe I can be nice?" He asked with a smirk, and you bit your tongue from replying the affirmative.

"I can introduce you," he continued, looking over at his cousin. "You're at an advantage, she's already impressed with how much you're donating to the museum."

He motioned her over and you blanched in panic, startling aware of your dress that was three years old and practical shoes, in no way as elegant as the lithe woman coming over in heels and a satin dress.

"You must be [Y/N]," she declared more warmly than you expected, sticking out her hand for you to shake. "Marie Anton. Head of Anton Antiquities."

She leaned in close.

"You know, if you were interested in selling some of your journals to me privately I know a few clients who would be extremely interested," she murmured.

"Marie, let the girl breathe before you try to charm something out of her," Clarke declared with a laugh. "Besides, I'm not sure how many journals she has left now considering she donated at least five to this place..."

"So what was it like? Finding the long lost treasure of Victoire?" Marie asked eagerly before she nudged Clarke's shoulder. "Apparently you gave my cousin and his girlfriend a run for their money..."

"It was...incredible, actually," you admitted before you looked over at Clarke. "Though Clarke helped us in the end."

"Us?" Marie asked in interest.

"Me, Victor Sullivan and, uh, Samuel Drake," you replied, and Marie's eyes brightened.

"A Drake and the infamous Victor Sullivan. Well it's no wonder you lost Clarke," Marie retorted with a grin. "So I suppose there's no point in asking you to come work for me, is there?"

"What about the other candidates?" You asked.

"Will simply be hired as other historical consultants," she retorted. "So can I assume you're not working for Sullivan and a Drake?"

You nodded, causing Marie to grin.

"Then let this be my offer of employment," she declared.

"What would I be doing exactly?" You asked in interest.

"Tracking down information for my clients in order to help them find what they think they need," Marie retorted. "Sometimes joining them in the field, armed with said information."

"So what I was doing for Sam and Sully?" You asked Clarke, who nodded. "You're their competition, aren't you?"

"Competition for certain cases, allies for others. I don't like picking sides if I don't have to," Marie replied with a chuckle. "Though unlike them, I'm a bit more...lawful, when it comes to my expeditions."

She stuck out her hand for you to shake.

"And it's never harmful to have a few people in the office to take on local jobs, if international treasure hunts aren't your style."

You had to admit...her offer was tempting. It wasn't like the treasure was going to run out anytime soon, but you were growing a little bored looking at the tourist sites.

And it wasn't like you were getting many other offers of employment.

You glanced at Clarke before you looked at her, clasping her hand and shaking it firmly.

"Thank you for hiring me, I promise I won't disappoint you," you murmured eagerly, and she chuckled warmly at your enthusiasm.

"So....when can you start then?"


End file.
